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Full text of "John Lane's Continuation of Chaucer's 'Squire's Tale' / edited from the original ms. version of 1616, Douce 170, collated with its ms. revision of 1630, Ashmole 53, by Fredk. J. Furnivall ; with notes On the magical elements in Chaucer's 'Squire's tale,' and analogues, by W.A. Clouston"

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EDITED 

FROM THE OEIGINAL MS. VERSION OF 1616, DOUCE 170, 

COLLATED WITH ITS MS. REVISION OF 1630, ASHMOLE 53, 
BY 

FREDK. J. FURNIVALL, MA., Hon. De. Phil., 

FOUNDER AND DIRBCTOB OF THE CHAUCER SOCIETY. 



with notes on the magical elements in chaucer'^ 
. * squire's tale/ and analogues, 

By W. a. CLOUSTON, 

AUTHOR OF * POPULAR TALES AND FICTIONS : THEIR MIGRATIONS 
AND TRANSFORMATIONS,' ETC. 



PUBLISHT FOR THE CHAUCER SOCIETY BY 

KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., LIMITED, 
LUDGATE HILL, LOJ^DOISr, E.G. 

1888, 1890. 



S^x;<rtth Ernies, ^oh. 23, 26, 



B. CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY, 



TO 

CHAUCER'S CHIEF PRAISERS 

AMONG MODERN POETS, 

WILLIAM MOEEIS 

AND 

JAMES EUSSELL LOWELL. 



Vll 



CONTENTS. 



FOREWORDS, BY F. J. FURNIVALL ... IX 

Jahit '^mxz^ Qlontxnuntwn ot Cha«ar0 '^S-qitm*^ ^ale/ 

TITLES OF THE TWO MSS. ... ... ... ... ... 2 

FIRST DEDICATION ... ... ... ... ... ... 3 

FRESH DEDICATION ... ... ... ... ... ... 6 

THE MUSE TO THE FOWRE WINDES ... ... ... ... 6 

COMMENDATORY POEMS : 

BY THOMAS WINDHAM ... ... ... ... ... 7 

„ EDWARD CARPENTER ... ... ... ... ... 7 

„ MATTHEW JEFFERIES ... ... ... ... ... 7 

„ JOHN MILTON ... ... ... ... ... ... 8 

„ GEORGE HAN COCKE ... ... ... ... ... 8 

THE POET SPENCER, CONCERNINGE THIS INVENTION OF CHAUOERS 8 

THE DISCRIPTION OF THE SQUIER, AS IT WAS WRITTEN BY : 

CHAUCER ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 10 

HEERB FOLLOWETH THE SQUIERS PROLOGS, AS IT IS IN CHAUCER 11 

lane's proem to CH auger's squire^ S tale, PART I ... ... 12 

lane's proem to Chaucer's squire^ s tale, part ii ... 12 

lane's '^ continuation " : 

lectori acrosticum ... ... ... ... ,.. ... 13 



viii Contents, 

PAGE 

PART III. — CAMBUSCAN HOLDS A JOUST ... 13 

5, IV. ALGARSIPE REBELS ... ... ... ... 30 

„ V. — THE PEOPLE WISH FOR WAR, CANACI^ FOR PEACE 48 

5, VI. CAMBUSCAN TAKES THE FIELD — QUEEN ETHELTA 

STAYS IN SERRA ... ... ... ... 73 

,, VII. ALGARSIPE AND CAMBALLO FIGHT CAMBUSCAN 

BESIEGES FREGILEY ... ... ... ... 91 

„ VIIL — ATTACK ON FREGILEY ... ... ... ... 118 

„ IX. — ALGARSIPE IS IMPRISONED, AND CAMBUSCAN IS 

SLAIN ... ... ... ... ... ... 138 

„ X. — FREGILEY IS TAKEN, AND KEPT BY AKAFIR ... 161 

„ XL — ALGARSIPE IS FORGIVEN CAMBUSCAN's GUESTS 

COMB TO THE TOURNAMENT ... ... ,.. 192 

„ XII.— ALGARSIPE WINS THEODORA — CANACB IS WON BY 

AKAFIR VIDBREA IMPRISONED — TWO FALSE 

KNIGHTS BRANDED — THE FALSE TERCBLET LA- 
MENTS HIS LOST FALCON — CANAC^ RESTORES 

THE FALCON SAFE AND SOUND THE FALCON 

AND TERCELET ARE LOVERS AGAIN ... ... 210 

GLOSSARY AND INDEX, BY MR. THOMAS AUSTIN 239 

®n the Jttagtrnl Clements in ©kanar^ '<Sxjmre*0 %^\z! 

toith ^wulQ^mQ, BY w. A. CLOUSTON 263—471 

INDEX TO MR. CLOUSTON's PAPERS ... ... ... ... 472 

CORRECTIONS FOR THE TEXT OF LANE'S SQUIBe's TALE ... 477 



IX 



FOREWORDS. 

John Lane was the friend of Milton's father, ^niost loving of 
musick,' who wrote Lane, not only the Fore-praise Stanza to his 
Squire^ s Tale^ p. 8 below, but also a like Sonnet in laud of his MS. 
version of Guy of Warioick now in the British Museum. ^ Milton's 

1 Both Milton father and son lie buried in the Church of St. Giles, Cripple- 
gate. See Mr. J. J. Baddeley's late book of 1888 on the Church. 

See also Masson's Life of Milton, vol. i. (1859), p. 42-3. Here (with its own 
stops, &c.) is Citizen John Milton's Sonnet of Praise to John Lane, set before 
"The corrected historic of SlE, GwY, Earle of Warwick, surnanied the 
Heremite ; begun by Don Lidgate, monlve of St. Edmunds Berye ; but 
now dilligentlie exquired from all Antiquitie by John Lane. 1621/' in its 
long music-4to MS. Harleian 5243. 

*^ Johannes Melton, Londinensis Ciues, amico suo viatico, 
in Poesis Laudem. S. D. P. 

If Virtewe this bee not ! what is ? tell quick ! 

for Childhode, Manhode, Old age, thow doest write 
Loue, Warr, and Lustes quelld, by ann Heroick ; 

instancd in Gwy of Warwick (knighthodes light.) 
Heraldes records, and each sownd Antiquarie, 

for Gwyes trewe beinge, lief, death, eake hast sought, 
To satisfye those w/iich pro3uaricari : 

Manuscript, Cronike], (yf mote bee bought) 
Coventries, Win tons, Warwickes monumentes, 

Trophies, Traditions delivered of Guy, 
With care, cost, paine, as sweetlie thow presents, 

to exemplifie the flowre of Cheualrye. 
From cradle to the sadle, and the beere ; 
for Christian immitation, all are heere. 

J. M. 
Lane's poem, with the Title and Dedication, takes up 130 leaves of the 
double- columnd MS. The Guy had 'licence to be printed. Jul: 13°, 1617. 
John Tauerner.' — leaf 132 of Harl. MS. 5243. Joseph Hunter was the first to 
print the Sonnet. Masson reprinted it, in modern spelling (MUton^s Life, i. 43), 
and also part of the following lines, Lane's compliment to John Milton, the 
Poet's father, in Lane's Tritons Tru7njjet, MS. Eeg. 17 B XV, leaf 179 (pencil ; 
182, ink) back. 

" At this full point, the Ladle Musickes hand<?, 
opened the casement^s wheare the pupill<9s stand*?, 
to whome, liftinge that signe w/wch kept the time, 
lowd organs, cornet^s, haggbutt^s, viales chime, 
lutes, cithernes, virginals, and harpsicord6\<?, 
bandoraes, orpharions, statelie grave, 
otherboes, classhers, sweetest of the thrave, 
and everie instrument of melodie, 



X FOREWORDS. 

nephew, Edward Phillips, in his TJiecdrum Poetavum^ 1675, thus 
describes our author : — ■ 

'' lolin Lane, A fine old Queen Elizabeth gentleman, who was 
living within my remembrance, and whose several poems, had they 
not had the ill fate to remain unpublisht, — when much better meriting 
than many that are in prints — might possibly have gain'd him a name 
not much inferiour, if not equal, to Drayton, and others of the next 
rank to 8jpencer ; but they are all to be produc't in Manuscript : 
namely, his Poetical Vision;'^ his Alarm to the Poets [1G48]; ^ his 
Twelve Months ;^ his Guy of ]Vanvic, a Pleroic Poem (at least as niucli 
as mauy others that are so Entitled); and lastly his Supplement 
to Chaucer's Scjtdre's TaleJ'—Ulb, p. 111-112 ; ed. 1824, p. xxiii.^ 

Edmund Howes, who in 1615 publisht Stowe's Annates, ed. 1603, 
with a Continuation, doesn't mention Lane in his list of English 
poets, among whom is " Willi. Shakespeare, gentleman," p. 811, col. 2. 
Anthony Wood, in 1691-2, writing of John Lane of Christ Church, 
who died in 1578, says, 'There was one John Lane, a poet, about this 
time.' — Fasti Oxonienses, Part I, col. 189, notes, under a.d. 1572. 

Besides the works which Phillips names, John Lane publisht in 

1600 a poem of 120 six-line stanzas (ababcc) on the vices of his 

country-men and women, entitled 

' Tom / Tel-Troths / Message and / his Pens Com- / plaint. / 
A toorke not vnpleasant to he read / nor vnjorojitahle to he fol- / lowed. 
Written by Jo. La. Gent. / . . . London ./ Imprinted for R. Hon-ell, 
and are to be sold at his shop, / neere the great J^orth doore of 
Paules, at the signe of / the white horse. 1600./' 

w/iich mote, ov ought exhibite harmoiiie, 

did fore the muses all theire coninges speud, 

so excellent ! as note by ynck bee pennd : 

for whie? before the close concludes theire noyses, 

in strake to all these sweetes, a chirme of voices, 

warblinge, dividinge, turninge, relishinge, 

accentinge, alringe, curbinge, orderinge, 

those sweete-sweete partes Meltonus did compose, 

as wonders selfe amazd was at the lose,i 

w/wch in a counterpoint mayntaininge hielo, 

gan all sum?;^^ vp thus, Alleluia Deo. 

The musick ended, silence hushd them all "... , 
1 See my Percy Folio Ballade and Bomanees, ii. 522, col. 1, at foot. The 
Poetical Visions was to have 'first and second partes.' 

• 2 See Lowndes, and Heber's Sale- Catalog, Part IV. -^ See next page. 
* See also Winstanley's Lives of the Poets (1687), p. 100 (which only 
repeats part of Phillips), and Hazlitt's Hand-look, p. ?)2(;, col. 2. 
^ Massou x)rints 'close.' 



FOREWORDS. XI 

This I reprinted in my Tell-Troth volume for the iNTew Shakspere 
Society in 1876, pp. 107 — 135 : and as it mentions the Globe theatre 
in which Shakspere had a share, ^ and also possibly alludes to his 
Venus and Adonis and Lucrece (st. 109, p. 132), readers of the pre- 
sent volume may perhaps care to look at it. It is better worth 
reading than this Continuation of the Squire^ s Tale, little as that is 
to say for it. I have sketcht its Contents on pp. xiii-xv of my 
Tell-Troth Forewords, from which I take the present details. 

Lane also publisht 

" An Elegie vpon the death of the high and renowned Princesse, 
our late Soueraigne Elizabeth. By I. L. Imprinted at London for 
John Deane, at Temple-barre. 1603 : 4to. 7 leaves. Bodleian 
(Malone)." 

What Phillips calls Lane's Tivelve Months, is 

^' Tritons Trumpet to the sweete monethes / husbanded and 
moralized by / John Lane / poeticalie adducinge / 
P. The seauen deadlie sinnes practised into combustion. 
2"^. Tlieire remedie by theire contraries, the Virtues, gratiously 

intendinge the Golden meane ; so called of perfectinge to 

felicitie. 

3°. The execrable Vices punished, alludinge eternalie. 

Virtus perijt et inventa est. / 1621 /." MS. Eeg. 17 B xv. Brit, 
Mus. The poem is on 201 leaves, 4to, after two prose Dedications. 

Lane's re-telling of the Romance of Guy of Warwick may pos- 
sibly be edited by my friend Prof. Zupitza for the Early English 
Text Society, for completeness' sake, when he has finisht the other 
versions of the story. The prose Forewords to this Guy I printed in 
the Percy Folio Ballads and Romances, ii. 521-5, from the Harleian 
MS. 5243 in the British Museum. 

The present reprint is due to no merit in Lane's poem, for it has 
none, but only to the fact that it is a continuation of one of Chaucer's 

1 Then light-taylde huswiues, which like Syrens sing, [p. 45] 679 
And like to Circes with their drugs enchant, 
Would not vnto the Banke-sides round-house fling, 

In open sight, themselues to show and vaunt : 682 

Tlien, then, I say, they would not masked goe, 
Though vnseene, to see those they faiue would know. 684 

Stanza 114, page 133, 



Xll FOREWORDS. 

Tales, and therefore ought to he put in type for the Chaucer Society. 

Most folk, on reading it, will he ready to treat Lane's memory with 

the ^ black ohloquie' he invokes for the defacers of Chaucer's figure : 

* And they which Chaucer's figure deigne deface, 
6 lett them live in shame, die in disgrace ; 
and never meete with other memorie 
then is repeated of black ohloquie.' 

But they will recollect that the old versifier did love Chaucer, did 

search for the missing (and never- writ ten) part of the poet's Squire^s 

Tale ^ in all old libraries, and Londons towre ' (p. 234, 1. 553), and 

did believe that he was honouring Chaucer by writing the miserable 

Continuation he has produced, of 

* him that left half told 
The Story of Camhusean bold, 
Of Camhall, and of Algarsife^ 
And who had Canace to wife, 
That own'd the vertuous Ring and Glass, 
And of the wond'rous Horse of Brass, 
On which the Tartar King did ride.' 

Milton. II Peiiseroso. (Urry, sign, i.) 

Eemembering this, the readers who would otherwise have curst 

Lane, will withhold their swears, and, if they can't feel for him, will 

pity him : he'd have written a better poem if he had been able. Be 

sure, he did his best, for his Master's love. 

The completion of the Squire^ s Tale would have taxt Chaucer's 
utmost power, even when he was at his best. The subject is one 
into which he could have imported little humanity. Tlie Continua- 
tion would have been a constant strain on his invention and fancy. 
The work wouldn't have repaid the effort, and so the Poet turnd it 
up, as he did the Good Women when he'd done nine of them out of 
the proposed nineteen. Who of us, in his own line, has not done 
the like 1 Man is mortal ; and when a fellow man doesn't see his way 
thro' a bit of work, it bores him, and he drops it. 

JS^aturally no real Poet tried to take up Chaucer's unfinisht task.^ 

1 I mean, the whole of it. Spenser chose and changed one incident for 
use in his Faerie Queene, and made the fay-born trin brethren, Priamond, 
Dyamond, and Triamond, fight Camballo in order to see which of them could 
win Canace. As we all know, Camballo (preserved by Can ace's King) was 
allowd to kill Priamond and Dyamond, the first two trins. but was reconciled 
to the third, Triamond (who secured Canace), by their sister Cambina, whom 
Camballo speedily married. — Faerie Queene, Book IV, Canto ii, st. 30, to end 
of Canto iii. 



FOREWORDS. xill 

But where Angels dare not tread, we know who rush in ; and so the 
Poetaster Lane wrote his Continuation of the Squire's Tale, and we 
wise folk have printed it. 

Chaucer has told us what he meant to do in the completion of 

his Tale : 

(1) First, wol I telle yow / of Cambynskan, 661 
That in his tyme / many a Citee wan ; 

(2) And after / wol I speke of Algarsif, 

How that he wan / Theodera to his wif, 664 

For whom ful of te / in greet peril he was, 
N' hadde he be holpen / by the steede of bras. 

(3) And after / wol I speke of Cambalo, 

That faught in lystes / with the bretheren two 668 

For Canacee / er that he^ myghte Mr wynne. 
(From the Ellesmere MS. Group F, § 2. Six-Text, p. 427, col. 1.) 

He had also to tell us how the Falcon won back her false Tercel et 

by the mediation of Camhynskan's younger son, Camballo or Cam- 

ballus ; to tell 

" How that this Faucon / gat hir loue ageyn, 
Repentant / as the storie telleth vs, 

By mediacio?m of Cambalus 656 

The kynges sone.'* — Idid. 

to invent something for the Magic Mirror to do, and lastly to explain 
how the Knight who was to win Canace (1. 669) was a namesake of 
her brother Camballo ; for we cannot possibly suppose that this 
Knight^s fight in lists with the Two Brethren (1. 668) was to rescue 
Canace from captivity. Chaucer was of course bound to provide 
Canace with a husband, before finishing his Tale. 

Of Chaucer's purposes, Lane carries out all, with variations. He 
tells us of Cambynskan (or Cambuscan), kills him, buries him, and 
brings him to life again. Lane also speaks of Algarsif, and weds 
him to Theodora ; but he does not put Algarsif oft in great peril for 
his bride, nor, consequently, does he make the Horse of Brass rescue 
Algarsif from this peril. On the contrary, Lane turns Algarsif into 
a traitor and rebel to his Father, then makes Algarsif s treacherous 
Generals put him in prison — from which his re- vivified Father frees 
him, — then shows Algarsif as a penitent, and lastly, as rewarded not 
only by Theodora's hand, but by the gifts (from her Father) of India, 

1 Spenser, as we have seen, makes Chaucer's lie in line 669, mean ' one of 
the 3 brethren who fight for Canace.' 



XIV FOREWORDS. 

Arabia, Jiidea, and Palestine^ and (from his own Father) of the Horse 
of Brass. This is killing the fatted calf for the prodigal son, with a 
vengeance. His brother Caniballo ought to have had Theodora. 

As to the Caniballo who Chaucer said was to win (and of course 
wed) Canace, — after lighting the Two Brethren, — Lane turns him 
into Akafir, the Admiral of Cambuscan. But instead of getting all 
Cambuscan's country with Canace, as the winner of her was promist 
before the Tourney (p. 201), he gets only one town — the city 
Fregiley, which rebelld with Algarsif, and then had its name changed 
to Canacamor — and the Magic Sword, Morlivo. Still, considering 
that his opponents the Two Brethren bolted after the first brush, 
Akafir is well rewarded. He may have been meant to get Cambus- 
can's land after the latter's death. 

Camballo, the younger son of Cambuscan, gets a lady, * Frelissa 
faire, with Serra province,' seemingly Chaucer's ^ Sarray, in the lond 
of Tartaric,' where Cambynskan dwelt, and w^hereof he was King, 
and which, in Lane's text, p. 201, was promist to the winner of 
Canace. 

Lane finds something for the Magic Mirror to do for Canace, in 
showing her what has happend at a distance (p. 193). And he 
continues the power of the Magic Eing in enabling her to under- 
stand birds' talk (pp. 192-3, 230-3). Moreover, it is by Camballo's 
^mediacioun' with Canace that her Falcon gets the love of its 
Tercelet again (pp. 229-233), 

Lane says nothing about the Knight in the Squire^s Tale who 
brings Cambynskan the Magic gifts ; but he tells us that these gifts 
were made, and sent to Cambuscan, by a wondrously-learned friend of 
his, Bunthoto, King of Ind, who afterwards concocts the Elixir 
which restores the dead Cambuscan to life, and whose daughter weds 
Algarsif. 

Both Lane's original version of his Poem — w^hich he dates 1616, 
tho' it was licenst on March 2, 1614-15 (p. 237 below), — and his 
revised version of 1630 exist in MS. in the Bodleian : the former is 
MS. Douce 170; the latter, Ashraole 53.^ The revision does remove 

1 Black's Catalog of 1845, col. 91, describes it as 

*No. 53. A small quarto volume, containing 81 leaves of paper, gilt at 



FOREWORDS. XV 

a few of the blemishes of the first version, and had better perhaps 
have been taken as our text, with collations from the earlier original. 
But as the early version of 1616 was copied first, and as it is always 
more interesting to follow changes of a text in their order of time, 
the decision was come-to to print the 1616 text, and give all the 
variations of the 1630. If any one ever reprints Lane's Con- 
tinuation, he can reverse this plan, print the 1630, and collate the 
1616. 

"Whatever else has to be said on Lane's work and its sources, I 
leave Mr. Clouston to say in his Introduction on the stories of a 
Magic Horse, Glass, Eing, Sword, &o., which he has very kindly 
promist to write for us. 

All Lane's frightful word-coinages will be duly enterd in the 
Glossary that will appear in Part 11. 

Miss Angelina F. Parker, one of the daughters of Mr. George 
Parker of the Bodleian, has copied the 1616 MS., and collated the 
1630 one; and she and Mr. Parker have read the proofs and revises 
with the MSS. My part has been only to see to the arrangement of 
Lane's Dedications, &c., to put head-lines and side-notes, refer doubt- 
ful forms and letters to Mr. Parker, and to write these Forewords. 
The latter ought doubtless to be fuller ; but I have to start at half- 
past three, to look at some second-hand Wager-boats at Putney, and 
to scull up one that I bought last Friday of Ted Phelps at the London 
Eowing Club Yard : these for the little Wager-boat Club I'm trying 
to start.i So I pray Chaucer-Soc. Members to hold me excused from 
taking up more of their time and print-money at present. 

F. J. FURNIVALL. 

6 September, 1888, 3 p.m. 
3 St. George's Sq., London, N. W. 



the edges, besides three on which are written the title and introductory pieces : 
it is very neatly written, as for a presentation copy ; and the royal Arms are 
stamped on the cover.' 

1 Club faild to come to the scratch, so I shall keep 4 wager-boats for the 
best of my Maurice- Club men to practise in, besides 1 for myself. 



XVI FOREWORDS. 

P.S. In the Marriages at St. Dionis Backclmrch, London (Ilarl. 
See), p. 17, is one which may possibly be that of onr author : 

"1611. June 4. John Lane, of St. Katheren Colemans, & Johan 
de Groote, of St. Buttolphes, Bishopsgate : by license,^^ 

Earlier ones in Col. Chester's Marriage Licenses, col. 812, are :— 

"Lane, John, of St. And rew-in-the- Wardrobe, and Johanna ISToxe, 
spinster, of St. Sepulchre — at St. SeiDulchre. 7 July, 1575. 

"Lane, John, of St. Olave, Jewry, London, cordwainer, and 
Katherine Lloyd, widow, of same, relict of John Lloyd, late 
of same, cordwainer- — at same. 9 Feb. 1587-8." 







LANE. 



The Titles of the First Version and the Revised Version 
of John Lanes Poem, 



[Douce MS. 170, First Version. On fly -leaf ^ once the cover.'] 

b3//«c!i !)at!) btnn lost.? allmost X^xu fjuniretr geers, 
anil soiigl)t bg manie, 

1616. 



[^s/^mo/<3 lf;S^. 53, once, 6937, Revised Version.'] 

hrinse Ijts Jlaster^pe£ce, called t!)e Squters Eale; 

to/^^xh hath bitttt gito^it l00t, f^r allm00t th^a0e ihxu hunireb 
geaiT^ : hut nxito fotiiub otit, mxb br^ix^ht ta tight tig 

3o|)n ilane. 
1630. 



JOHN LANE'S FIRST DEDICATION. 

[Douee MS. 170. The First Version,] 

^To the illustrious Classis of Poetes Laureate cieafi] 
in bothe the famous Vuiuersities. 

Ingenious sirrs, I present vnto jou the Squiers o Laureate Poets, 

I here offer you 

tale, wrought of the same matter, finished on the same chimcer's squire's 

model, composed in the same kind of verse, and im model. 

prosequuted into the verie same offices, scopes, and 

circumstances convenient, w/i^ch your great ancester, 

Dan Chaucer began, and promised at the first, in 

mowldinge wheareof (after my owne way of invention, 

for elles heereafter might saye, that he did all this, and 

I nothinge), I stragle not from his idea ; for that weare 

to committ nullitie of the whole. The taske (I graunt) The task is hard, 

is hard, wheare no byestander cann possiblie plucke 

downe the poetes selfe, out of owne^ sphere of ideal 

fabricke : and well wee knowe that onlie one rare 

Chaucer lived at once. Which, caused Mr Spencer to Spencer lamented 

. . the loss of the 

lament the losse of the origmale i whoe also assumeth original, 

that none in Chancers time, nor since his death, durst 

finishe this peece, but himselfe, though manie made 

essaies, yet all in vaine. ISTotwithstandinge hee, in his 

Faery Queene, dothe it promiscuouslie, and that in and completed it 

promiscuously. 

longer staves, then couplette^. Whearfore I (thoughe 

^—1 To the J. L., on next pagie, are not in the Ashmole 3fS. 53, tJi^e 

Revised Ver'sion of the Poem. 

2 We should expect ' his owne ' ; but Lane co7istantly leaves out the ad' 
jective fvonoun. See p. 13, 1. 7 ; p. 15, 1. 29, &c. &c. 

B 2 



4 Lanes First Dedication, to the Poets Laureate. 

farr his inferior), tracings out all Chancers scopes, to 

one constant ende, have presumed to illustrate the 

I've dene it in 10 same in these my tenn Cantoes, three waies varied, 

Cantos, 

vz. : P by the art of w^arr in general ; 2° by particular 

and personal instances, officiated at the speare & sheild ; 

3^ by the necessitie of musical conclusions. And these 

and added 'em to havc I added to Chauccrs twaine, in steade of those of 

Chaucer's two. 

his, w/^zcli have bmn lost allmoste three hundred 

yeeres, but now to bee imped on his f ether, incase it so 

seeme fitt, to your magistral censure, ffor my owne 

part, I arrogate not to my selfe, nor yet dare vendicate 

with you, in your so wittie and vnderstandinge a 

facultie, for w7i/ch I never suckd your mothers milkg, 

to prof esse more then to love it & them w/n'ch cann it 

And though my aright; onlie I have composed these vnpolished lines, 

poiisht, the -which, if well, will not bee too longe for his tale. 

Which, meaneth not to entertaine the reader vnder ami 

absolute tract, least elles it faile in all : in hope jour 

I dedicate them to loves will pardoii what I dedicate to your approbation, 

you and Chaucer's • c i i • • 

memory. and to the mcmorie oi that excellent christian poet, 

vntill yo^^r selves shalbee pleased to doe it better. In 
the meane time, takings leave, doe betake you all to 
yowr divine muses, this of 

Your verie Lovinge frende, 
J. L. 



LANE'S FRESH DEDICATION. 

[Aslimole MS. 53, Revised Version.] 

^The Muse, to the soveraigne bewtie of our 
most noble and illustrious Ladle, the vir- 
tuous Queene Marie, wiefe of our adreadded 
soveraign Lord, King^ Charles, &c. 

M Male not an olive branch of Peace, Truitli, Lone, Acrostic on q. 
a att heavnlie zeales flame, tyne more lampes with charL i, 

yeel 
r rouze vp thy fethers meeke Turtle-I>ove ! 
i invert eake the seaes rage ! so heere shall see 
a, armes yeild to Loue, Truith, lustice, foes agree. 
A Above all Virtewes, Loue is soveraigne, Love is the sove- 

n nor was theare ever Faith without trewe Loue, 
g gives fier to concord, peace, truith, iustice traine ; 
1 Loue conquers Hate, as heere twoe Ladies prove : and conquers 
i in whose perspective mirrour cleere is seene 
ae : Englandes lacke, supplied in yee Faerie Queene, 'tis England's 
C Com then ! that Temperances sober feast you.' 

M. male all invite, from brawles, to tranquil rest ! 



To yee, thearefore, most gracious Queene ! for yo?/r To you, then, o 
highnes recreation, I (in all humilitie and subiection) i oWmy ending? 

T , ^ t'l r^ ' , ^ , • of Chaucer's Tale 

doe present yonder warrlike Squiers tale, tragecomi- of Love, 
calie handled ; beinge in deed our Chancers longe lost 

1 This and the next page are not i)i the Douce MS. 170, the First Version 
of the Poem. 



[for turbulent ?] 

Chaucer's Tale 
had only 2 Parts 
and 2 lines. 



Spencer wrote of 
it 4 stanzas. 



6 Jo/i/i Lanes Substituted Dedication, to Q. Mary. 

trubucent \_uc\ pillare, or model demonstrative of I iOue, 
truith, and Justice (his conuertibilia) : In w/^^cll hee 
alludeth that fyerie one, that conducted all Israel 
through the truluculent agitations of that time ; but 
of his lost, or rather suppressed, tale onlie twoe partes 
and twoe lines are extant ; the rest, for neere theas 
three hundred yeares passed, could by none bee fownd 
out, except by me Edm. Spencer : as hee in his fower 
ensewinge stanzes sadlie complaineth, and confidenthe 
maintaineth. JL^evertheles, forasmuch as in his Faerie 
Queene hee dealeth with yt promiscuously, and not 
in couplette^ (suiting^ to the authors institute), I 
have presumed, takinge Chancers Q, to make his 
twoe straines tell twelve, wheareby, though his Original 
weare lost, or suppressed, I vendicate into his trewe 
scope and meaninge, though not poetical abilitie. More 
then that, thease my supplimente^ may, for sections, 
bee imped on his f ether, to flye abrode, rather an 
absolute, then, by the Muses enimies, a winge-clipped 
Poem, vntill som other shall better reclame yt. 
Yo^r xnddesiies most humble subiect, 

John Lane, 



I've turnd Chau- 
cer's 2 Parts into 
12, in couplets, 
and thus com- 
pleted his intend- 
ed work. 



The Muse to the fowre wind<?t9. 



I might have I had to Poctcs an alarum given, 

written a fresh 

Plowman's Tale, and told a Plowuiaus tale of twelve monthes longe^ 
zvick, and righted Gwy of Warwicke (now in heavn), 

and more Poeticke visions troopd amonge ; 
but was hinderd. but Liccnco and the Press have twoe condicions, 
that hurt more then they heale, yet no Phisiciens. 
thus male this Philomel hush vp her Lay, 
sith Printers male not preach, yet they will pray. 

J. L, 



Commendatory Lines on John Lane, 



[Gommendatory Poems. Douce MS. 170.] 

^Thomas Windham, Ken^fordiae, Somerset- 
tensis, armiger, ad authorem.^ 

The ivie needes not, wlieare theare is good wine, 

nor thy booke, praises of my slender muse, 
^Sxthe love, truith, iustice, in it cleere doe shine,^ 
w/i^ch iron 2 age ha the driven out of vse : 
^no tonge, nor penn,^ cann this thy verse abuse, 
but Bayard blind, that drosse for gold dothe chouse / 



[leaf i, bk] 



This book needs 
no praise from 
me. 



Only blind Rayurd 
can abuse it. 



Edwardus Carpenter. 

Thy poem shewes, wheare love the scales dothe hold, 

iustice, and truith, convertes at everie end^, 
from whence no hurt cann comm to younge or old; 
concord and musicke doe the same intend ; 
WA'^'ch fyve, reducd, somms vp one vnitie, 
as sweetlie chauntes thy tragecomidie 



Lane's Tragi- 
comedy combines 
Love, Justice, 
Truth, 



Concord and 
Music. 



Matthew Jefferies, mastev of Choristers of the 
cathedral church of welk^, to his frend^. 

I was the firste that, with ann oten quill, My music to your 

(skoringe thy lines), fast caught dread James his eare, james l to love 
With serious heede, to love Apollo es skill, 

thoughe of my notes, no notice woold ajppeare : 
but dienge now, frend, thy love-tyninge miise 

awakes my spirit, wliioh but awaits,? for heavn 
to contest with thie musical issues, 

WMoh all the speares,^ harmoniouslie reweaven, 
Whither (naie higher farr) I now ascend, 
and leave my memorie with thee, my frend / 



Now I die, and 
leave my memory 
to you. 



^— ^ Aslim. MS. Thomas Windham, de Keinsford in Com. Somerset, 
Armiger : Justiciariorum &c. alter, ad aucthorem. Only this one vei'se is in 
the Ashmole MS. 

2—2 sith in it ! love, truith, iustice cleerely shine, ^ {\-(> ii-on. 

'^ "■* nor tong/*, ne penn, ^ sjjeares = Sjpheres. 



8 Praises of John Lane, Spencer on Chaucer. 

John Melton, Cittisen of London, most lov- 
ing^ of musick<?, to his frend J. L. 

Eight well I knowe, that vnites, eightes, fyvths, third es, 

from discorded, and cromatickes, doe abhorr, 
thoughe heavnlie reason bares with those absurde^ 
to musickes Class, for love sake, to restore, 
but tell me. Lane, how canste thow this approve, 
that wee presume on musicke, with-ont love % 



Music hates dis- 
cords. 



yet we, loveless, 
write Music. 



George Hancocks, Somersettensis, to his 
frend<?, J. L. 

So ringe the peale of love, truith, instice out, 
as it, into theire choire, all heerers chime ; 
and stop the bells SO cease the belief, of discord es dismal rowt, 
as it entewne this harmonie divine; 
so virtues flame woold loves sweete lampe entine, 



Ring the peal of 
Love, 



of Discord, 



as Chaucer and 
Spencer did and 



as Chaucer, Lidgate, Sidney, Spencer dead, 

yett livinge swanns, singe out what thow haste sedd % 



[leaf ii] 



Spencer*s Faerie 
Queene, 



^The Poet Spencer, ^concerninge this invention 

of Chancers. Lib. 4. Cant. 2. staf^. 31.^ 

31. 

Whoe, as they now approched ISTigh at hande, 
deeminge them dough tie, as they did appeare, 
Tiie Squire reports they scut that Squirc afore, to vnderstand 
are what motc they bee : "Whoe, viewinge them more neere, 

returned readie newes, that those same weare 
twoe of the prowest knightes of faerie land, 

and those twoe ladies their twoe lovers deere, 
couragious Camball and stowte Triamond, 
with Canace and Cambine, linckd in lovelie band / 



Camballo and 
Triamond, 
Canace and Cam- 
bine, 



1 TJiis is in hotli Vei'sions. 

'^—^ Aslim, MS. vppon the loss of that peece of Chaucers. 
Libro i\ Canto 31^ 



Spencer on Chaucer^ s ' Squires Tale! 



32. 

Whilome, as antique stories tellen vs, 

those 1 twoe weare foes, tlie feloniste on gronnde, 
and battaile made the draddest daungerous 

that ever shrillinge trumpet did resound : 

though now their actes bee no wheare to be found 
as that renowned Poet them compiled, 

with warlike numbers and heroicke sound, 
Dan 2 Chaucer, well of English vndefiled, 
on fames eternal beddroU, worthie, to bee fyled / 



foes of old. 



tho their deeds 
cannot be found, 
as written by 
Chauceb, 



well of English 
undefiled. 



33. 

But wicked time, that all good thinges^ doest waste, wicked Time 

and worckes of noblest wittes to nought out weare, 
that famous moniment^ hath quite defact, 

and robbd the world of treasure endlesse deare, 

the w/i^'ch mote have enriched all vs heere. 
6 cursed Eld, the canker worme of writts, 

how maie these rimes ^ (so rude as dothe appeare) 
have^ to endure, sithe workes of heavnlie wittes that devours the 

are quite devowrd, and brought to nought, by litle bittes. wits \ 



has robd us of 
this Treasure. 



Cursed Age, 



34. 

Then pardon, 6 most sacred happie spirit, 
that I thy labors lost maie thus revive, 

and steale from thee the meede of thy dewe merit 
that none durst ever, whilste^ thow wast alive, 
and beinge dead, in vaine, yet manie strive ; 

ne dare I like, but throughe infusion sweete 

of thine owne spirit, w?^^ch dothe in mee survive, 

I followe heere the footinge of thy feete, 

that with thy meaninge so I maie the rather meete / 



Pardon me then, 
happy Spirit of 
Chaucer, if I re- 
vive thy labours, 



and follow the 
footing of thy 
feet. 



Aslim, M8. 1 thease 
^ lines 



2 Don 3 thoughtf^s * monument 
^ hope 7 while 



10 



Chaucer^ s Desmption of The Sqtdre. 



Can ace was the 
most learned lady 
of her day. 



35. 

Caballoes^ sister was faire Canacee, 

that was the learnedst Ladie in her daies, 

well seene in everie science that mote bee, 

and everie secret worke of ^ natures waies &c / 

Sjlere follow 1, * ^ The Discription of the Squire, as it 
was written by Chaucer," in 22 lines; 2. ''The 
Squiers Prologe as it is in Chaucer," in 28 lines ; 
and 3. the incomplete Tale (not now repri7ited).] 



^The discription of the Squier, as it was 
written by Chaucer.^ 

[From the Prolog to The Oanterhcry Tales. ] 

With the Knight ^With him, theare was^ his sonn, a younge esquire, 

a lover, and a lustie batchilier, 

^with his lockes^ crull, as they weare laid in presse, 

of twentie yeeres of age hee was, I gwesse ; 4 

^of his stature, hee was of ^^ even lengths, 

and wonderlie delivr, and of great strengthe. 

and hee had "^bee somtime^ in Chiuawctrye, 

in Flanders, in Artoies, and Picardie, 8 

^and borne him well, as of ^ so litel space, 

in hope ^for to stande[n]^ in his Ladies grace. 

embrodered was hee, as it weare a nieade, 

^^all full of freshe flowers,^ ^ bothe white and read : 12 

i^singinge hee^^ was, or floitinge all the daye; 

^-hee was^^ as freshe as is the month of maye. 

short was his gowne, with sleeves longe and wide ; 

12 well could hee 12 sytt ann horse, and farelie ryde ; 16 

i^hee could songes make, and hee could i* well endite, 

ioust, and eake daunce; and portrey, ^^and well write.^^ 

Aslim. MS. ^ Camballoes ^ {^ 3—3 Discription of the Squier by Chaucer. 

4—4 Theare was with him ^~^ with lockes ^—^ hee was of stature of an 

^— ^ somtime bin ^— ^ and well him born, as in ^—^ to stand faire 

10—10 and full of flowers, fresh ^i— ^^ and singings i2~u ^nd all 

13—13 and well could i4— 14 jjgg songes could make, so could hee 

15—15 YiQ\\ and Wright 



a Squire of 20, 



who'd resided in 
Artois, &c, 
and fouglit well. 



His coat was 
llowerd like a 
mead, and he sang 
all day. 



His sleeves were 
neW'fashiond. 



Chaucer s Prolog to his Squire's Tale, 11 

so hott liee loved, tliat by nigliter tale He was a hot 

lover, 

hee slepte no more then dothe the nightingale : 20 

ciirteous hee was, lowlie, and serviceable, 

and kerff before his father at the table. and carrd at table 



^Heere foUoweth^ the Squiers Prologe as it is 
in Chaucer. 

Our hoste, vppon his stiropes stode anon, The Host (Hany 

. Bailey) bids the 

and sayd : ^* Yee good men, herkeneth euenechone ! Priest ten a xaie. 

this was a thriftie tale, evn for the nonce. 

Sir Parish Prieste (quoth hee), for goddes^ bones, 4 

tell vs a tale, as was thy forward yore ; 

I see well, that yee learned men in lore 

^cann much good thinges,^ by high goddes dignity e." 

the pars'n him aunswerd " Benedicite 1 8 The Parson re- 

bukes hina for 
What ailes the man, so sinfullie to sweare*?" swearing. 

our host ^aunswerd, " 6 Jenken, been yee theare ?^ The Host says 

the Parson's a 

^ow good men (quoth our hoste) herkneth to me : LoUard. 

I smell a LoUer in the winde (quoth hee) ; 12 

abideth for godes deigne passion, 

for wee shall haue a predication ; 

this lollar heere will prechen vs somewhat.^^ 

*' J^ay, by my fathers soule, that shall hee not ! " ^ 16 
said the younge squier, ^' for heere hee shall not preache ; The squire de- 

cl3,r6s Iig'II ImvG 

*^ heere shall hee no ghospell nor glosse, ne teache \^ no heresy taikt; 

Wee liveth all in the great god (quoth hee) ; 

"^hee woold heere sowen^ some difficultee, 20 

or springe cockelP into our cleener corne, (f. i b) 

and thearfore hoste'-, I warren thee beforne, 

my ioUie bodie shall a tally e tell ; he'ii teii a merry 



and I shall ringen you^ so mirrie a bell 24 



Tale himself; 



Ashm. MS. 1—1 omit, in Ashm. ^ Qq^ j^jg 3—3 niuch good can, 

^— * him answerd "Jenkyn, 6! b'yee thear^?" ^ nat 

®— ^ ne heere no ghospell tell, nor glosses teach, 

'^~-'^ this mate would sowen heer<3 ^ j^jg cockell 

^—^ whearewith I shall yee ring^ 



12 



not one of Phi- 
losophy or Law. 



Lane's Proem to 
Chaucer's Squire's 
Tale, Part I. 



Extracts from Chaucer s Squires Tale. 

^that shall awake [n] alP this companie ; 

but it shall not been^ of Philosophie 

ne Phisickes skill, ne^ termes queint of Lawe ; 

theare is but litel Latine in my mawe./ " 28 

^Heere endeth the Squiers Prologe, and 
heerafter followeth his tale, as it lieth in 
Chaucer./* 



\jChaucer^8 Squire's Tale, Fart Z] 

Firsts Parte. Qanto Primo. 
^Cambuscan and EtheP have children three, 

Algarsif e, Camballo,^ with faire Canac ; ^ 
a horse of brasse, and^ swoord of soveraigntee 

are sent them, with a ring6 and lookinge glasse./ 

At Serra,^ in the Lande of Tartarie, 
theare dwelt a kinge that ^^warried Surrey,^^ 
throughe^^ which theare died manie^^ ^ dough tie man. 
this noble kinge was called Cambuscan, 



\last liyiesJ] 



Lane's Proem to 
G\\?i\xcev'B Squire's 
Tale, Part II. 



but thus I lett^^ in luste and iollitee, 
lathis Cambuscan, his lordes^^ all feastinge, 
vntill well nighe the daie begann to springe. 

Canto Becundo}-^ 
A falcon trewe by tercelet false is trayd 

the virtues of yond horse, Swoorde, Einge & Glass, 
anon, not heere, ^^must b'in^^ Loves battailes playd 

Wheare love, truith, iustice, theire contraries has. 

The nourice of digestion, thei"^ sleepe, 

gann on him^^ wincke, and bode^^ them take to keepe 

that mirth, and drincke, and labor will have rest : 



1—1 j^g^iqyi^ ]\£S, as shall awake all in ^ \)qq 



nor 



4_4 rpj^g Squiers tale as it is in Chaucer, 
and Cambal, ^ 



^—5 Cambuscan, Ethel eake, 
a ^ Sarra lo— lo ^varred Assurie, 

^1 in 12 full manie ^^ leave 

14—14 Cambuscan with his Lordlinges ^^ Ashm. adds, Second part^. 
16—16 .^y.Q ijj 17 quiet 18 them ^^ bid 



Lanes Prolog to his Continuation of Chaucer, 13 



And after will ^I speake^ of Camballo, 
Who 2 fought ill listes with the breathern twoe, 
^for Canace : ear that hee might ^ her winn, 
and theare^ I left, I will againe beginn. 

SjEiud of Chaucer'' s Part 77. ] 



End of Chattcer's 
Squire's Tale, 
Part II. 

(f. 4 b) 
all these are per- 
formed after- 
wards. 



[Douce MS. 170. (Bodl Lihr.) Lane's First Version,'] 
^Thus farr Chaucer. Now followeth a supplie 

to what heereof is missings; finished by 

John Lane, anno Domim 1615. 



Lectori acrosticum. 

I graunt my barcke, ores, men, too slowe, weake, pale, 

of standinge within kenn of Chancers quill, 
Howbeet, least Elde mote robb his Squiers loste tale 

neere point of reskewe, pittye steeres my keel, 4 

Lamentinge with the muses, suche a losse, 

as richer peece near Poetes head begunn. 
^Q-w sithe no allegoric blabbs owne glosse, 

ende, meanlie ended, bett'r is, then vndon.^ 8 

Canto Tercio.^ 

A roial ioust Cambuscan caller, 

and theareto buildes a theatere : 
his towne Fregilia stirreth brawles, 

theventes wheareof Canac'^ dothe feare. 



Acrostic on John 
Lane, 



Out of pity I finish 
Chaucer's Tale. 



A bad end's better 
than none. 



Cambuscan holds 
a joust. 



The Collations are from the Ashmole MS. 53, the Revised Versioti of the 
Poem. 



wee smg^ 



how 



2—^ for bright Canace 1 eare mote bove all. * wheare 

^—^ Ashm. has Heere followeth my suppliment, to bee Insected in place of 

that of Chancers, which is missing*?. — J. L. 

^ Ashm, adds Third parte : and this is repeated in hoth MSS. at the top 

of the pages, and Fourth part, ^c. ^ Canace 



14 



^ fJiis JDistieon is 
Chaucer's.^ 



John- Lane 
begins. 



Glad Spring 
conies ; 



birds frolic, 
beasts rejoice; 



but Philomel 
laments. 



Oiunbnscan re- 
grets that he 
wasn't up earlier 



to look after his 
servants. 



Spring described, Camhuscan rises. [Pt. IIL 

* Apollo wliirleth^ vp his chaire so ^hye, 
till that^ the god Mercurius house he flye' 
in glorious progresse, ^leavs behind him th'In 
of smylinge Gemini (that lustie twin)."^ i 

^now all exhaeid, springes gusshinge in longe raine, 
declard heauns wrath staies, to shine drie againe.^' 
^Auroraes soft hand dilld vp haulls, and bowres,^ 
feilde^, gardines, groves, with leaves, budded, blossoms, 

flowrs, 8 

■^everye trim sweete, that Zephirs breath had blest; 
frolickd alF birder, for younge ones weale, in nest ; 
beastes, eake in new blooded livelhode,^ pleasure tooke, 
^by fountaines mild, cleere silver spowtinge brooke,^ 
w7i^ch neighbourd^*^ shadye woodes ; ^^ whither they 

brize, 
to hide them from the stinges of busye flies ; ^^ 
12 all that doM Hiems old clothes dond newe forme, 
t'enioye owne ioies, and thearew^'th greete the morn ; 1 6 
while Philomels dirges had wakinge kept 
her muse, for love gott, whose late losse shee wept.^^ 
"0," quoth 1^ Cambuscan, "this mote skore^* my 

shame, 
that golden Titan hathe clomb^^ heauens frame, 20 
and I (a kinge) praevented not his time, 
it moste concernes^^ vs, whoe sytt most^^ sublime, 
to have the first ears ^^vp, and wakened ^^ ©yes, 
i^to're see and heere^^ our lawlesse companies : 24 

^'^sith to trust servauntes in our stead^^ dothe learn 



1—1 Chaucers couplett disticq'?^^ ^ whirled ^—^ full hie vntill 

4--^ takings vp for In thvncertaine Gemini signd in the twin ; 

^—'^ these lines omitted in Aslmi. MS. 

6—^ gainst whose aproch haules vp wear^^ dilld, and bowers, 

''— ''^ by Zephirs bounteous breath so richlie blesst. as frolickd 

^ livelihod ^~^ suok<s-giving(9 in greene mead<95, neere cristall brooki?, 

1^ rann to 

11—11 wheareto them hies, to hid^ close from the stinges of somm prowd flies. 

12—12 omitted in Ashm. MS. ^^ " Ha," said i* Yrge ^^ clombe hath 

1^ importing^ ^"^ Ashm,. omits 18— 18 ope and rathest 

19—19 loi-'e heere and see, 20—20 git^ servauntes in our place to putt. 



Pi. IIL] CambuscaTis Baughler and 2 Sons, 15 

^ them bribe-full ricbe, while alP tlieire faultes wee earn." 

2 his care, evn a charge vniuersal stoode, cambuseanhas 

ore male, female, younge, old, great, small, badd, for; 

good,2 28 

but chiefly e for owne blood, and familie, specially his own 

family. 

for all collateral interest, thronges^ so nye, 
as it may sytt, when others muste stande by ; 
^sollicitors it needeth none,^ for whie, 32 

nature stilP pleades for consanguinitie, 
^by th' interest of kind proximitie.^ 

His'^ deerest daughter oft came to his minde, He wants to find 

ann honorable match for her to fynd, 36 his daughter 

sithe ripe yeeres^ now fytt husband craves to gifte, 
w7i2ch to neglect, maides for them selves will shift, 
^and chouse them^ pheares of base disparagement, 
then w/i2ch nought more abhorrs ^^to the parent. ^^ 40 

He sawe his twoe sonnes divers dispositions, ^"^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^"^ 

•*■ (Algarsif) is care- 

thone carefull, thother carelesse, of conditions. f^^' ^^'^ "*^^6^' 

(Camballo) care- 

albeet^i he fraught ^^theare minde with faire^^ decore less. 

^ (f. 5) 

of truith, i^iustice (twins), grounded of virtues lore,!^ 
to gaine trewe honor i*bye ; nieaninge,!^ in deede, 
that as theire sensative^^ traducd his seede, 46 

^^ right so hee woold theire reasons fyer divine 
with his shook! ioine, and one loves flame entine. 
He founde, thoughe parentes some of these instill, 
yet good and ill choice restes at childrens will."^^ 50 
Againe hee sawe, that but meere speculation 

1—1 them boldly faultie, while 
2—2 oures beinge th' vniversal care of all, 

male, female, yong^, old, good, bad, greats, and small ; 

3 thringes ^— * not needing^ one sollicitor ^ still nature 

6-6 Aslim. omits this line ^ Whose ^ ^g^ 9—9 and oft chowse 

10.-10 the syers intent : " yea though 12-12 bothes mindes with fitt 

13—13 and iustice (twins of him ybore) 1*— 1* for hee ment 

1^ sensive sparck^s 
1G~16 gQ faine woold that theire reasons flame divine, 
should (with his ioining^) Virtewes tier entine. 
but though the parent hath of thease t' instill, 
yet will they good and ill choose b' at theirs will. 



Cambuscan hears 
such bad reports 
ofhissonAlgarsif, 



16 Cambuscafis Children are to Marry, [Pt. III. 

attaines not the full ende of contemplation/ 52 

^thoughe some sonnes, livinge vnder fathers eye, 
may chaunce demeane them as preceptualie,^ 
but, breakings loose, deigne^ purpose what them liste. 

All wA^'ch, by longe experience, well hee wiste, 56 
" for" (quoth hee) *^not "^a dale roller ore my"* head, 
but some ^badd newes of Algarsife is^ sedd. 
some sweare hee riott runns at everie pleasure, 
and in all companies spendes without measure ; 60 

^well learnt in glories schoole to glasse to th' eye, 
th'opinion of him self 6, and it deifye :^ 
the fruites'' wheareof ^binn anie vile misschife;^ 
yet flatterers vaunt, ^all becoms Algarsife.^ 64 

but, by my swoord, I sweare, If hee ^^note mend, 
]2iyio heritage to him shall near discend." 
and theare hee pawzd, while love and indignation 
12 held in his inwardes serious disceptation,^^ 68 

what fathers love mote-^^ doe, and iustice kept 1 

14 Anon into his minde this proiect^^ stept, 
that thus hee woold his ^^ cares and grand ^^ affaires 
distribute (for his ease) amongst ^^ his heires, 72 

i^as thus : His dearlinge Canac, hee'P^ propose, ^ 
to all, that oth'r in vertue overgoes. 74 

Algarsiue and Camballo, they^^ shall wyve, 
to trye, if wives witter' makes ^^ their husbanded thrive, 
^^knowinge, this keepes vp th'onor of his house,^^ 



that he swears 
he'll disinherit 
him if he doesn't 
mind. 
11 



vow^^ 



He resolves to find 
a good husband 



and wives for his 
2 Sons. 



1 Aslim. here inserts : vntill the worck^ doe perfect vp its end ; 

both ivMoh One maiestie doe comprehend. 
2—2 accordingelie, theas livinge in his eye 
hee sawe them to demeane preceptualie : 
^ maie ^—^ one daie ru?^nes ore mine ^—^ vile newes is of Algarsif 
6—6 an vse suckd out of smokes carowsing*? trad*? 
wMch cures cares carelesse, so are careles made, 
7 fruite ^—^ to any mischiffd? runes ^-^ Algarsife all becomes 
10—10 jiij niend mine ii— ii omitted in Ashm. 

12-12 iield in him verie serious disputation ^^ might 
14—14 wheareof ear longe, this proiect fore him i^—i^ care and great 

16 amonge i7— ir Canace his dearlinge ! hee will needed ^^ both 
19 make 20—20 and setl his state, the honor of whose howse 



Pt. III.] Canibuscans Dinner and Queen, 17 

^that knightes bee knigbtlyei meritorious : 78 

2 and \iold.es this aye, for soundest ^ demonstration, 

his praesidentes bee to theire imraitation. 80 

Bj this, the dialler finger stood '^ noone tide, At noon, cambus- 

when as* Cambuscan to his diett^ hied, 



ner. 



fore whome stoode store of rare and rathe ripe cate,^ 

accordinge as the season them begate \^ 84 

s service, and servitors, cladd kistrant^ neate, 

and not a disshe vsurpd his fellowes seat^, 

^ while the tall sewer the first course ledd^ in, Tiie sewer brings 

lowd musicke told,^^ what state was theare beeseen : 88 

^1 and so as th' ^^ first, the seconde course was spedd, the 2nd follows 

with music; 

with different musickes, in the formers stedd. 

after 12 the void, praeserves in silvern ^^ plate then come pre- 

set suche a postscripts to anil 1* antedate, 92 

as not a common ^^ penn knowes^^ to define 

great Princes diet^^s in festival time. 

I'^I^ow, as the^^ musickes filld the vaultie^^ liaiill 
with glorious straines composd cr^elestial, 96 

^^no mans witt knewe by sense ^^ to wishe for more, 
for 20 that owne feelinge felt it^^ theare afore, 
most iudgementss '^'^hoingQ lost to 22 their owne witt, 
for^^ so great glories, 24gQ gann ravishe'^* it. 100 

Above 25 Cambuscan ^^sate his glorious ^^ queene, iTEtheisheu'ty^7 

2^ good Ethel, veild in blewest^s heavens sheene, can>s 

^^wMqIi all illuminated with her eye,29 

^^that bore foorthe^^ suche a soveraigne maiestie, 104 majestic Queen, 
as wheather it more^^ daunted, or advoked, 

1—^ intend<?5 bis sormes bee ^~^ this laying/? for theire plainer 

^ pointes * king ^ dinner ^ caet^s '^ begett*?^* 

8—8 whose service as the servitors weare 

^—^ thus while the sewer led the first course ^^ shewd u— ii gQ ^g i\^q 

^2 then to 13 silver i* A. omits ^^ vulgar ^^ had 

17—17 ijut while thease ^^ ample i9— 19 a man in sense knewe not 

20 of 21 was 22—22 leesing<9 them in ^3 wheare 24—24 h^d to conster 

25 Theare bove 26—26 \i\g\i did sitt his 2r— 2T q^^i^ lyi j^gji^ 

28—28 Etheelta faire blewe veild in 

29—29 whoe all illumind with her bewties hie so— so w/wch polisht 

21 more yt 
LANE. 



Canace looks pure 
and brigl)fc. 



Cambuscan drinks 
to her 



future Husband, 



and makes her 
blush. 



The Love-draught 
is past round. 



(f. 5 b.) 
Cambuscan says 
that his 2 boys 
and girl shall 



all be married 
togetlier. 



Cambuscan 8 3 Children are to toed, [Pt. IIL 

none knewe, till virtues ^liand wrote, mowth liad^ 

spoke it, 
^a Goddesse^ in their hartes th'installed lier.^ 107 

But^ when they viewd yonge^ Canac sytting^ ner,^ 
^so bright, pure, simple, meeke, white, redd, wise, faire,*^ 
no^ wonder knewe, how^ to compare the paire, 
onlyi^ they deemd Canac, ^^by so much^^ lesse, 
as daughters ^^binn, then^^ theire progenitresse : 112 
howbeet^^ parentale love so equald them, 
as knowes Astreaes skales and Poetes penn."^"^ / 

"Mayd" (quoth ^^ Cambuscan), to Canacy then 
(pleasantlie smilinge) : (shee, as blithe agen,) 116 

" my maydd, I pray,^*^ wheare is your hart becomm 1 ^' 
^''with all, takinge the nact'r and tas tinge somm,i'^ 
is"heere, beer's ^^ ann helthe to thy first husbandes 
wife ! " 

At that^^ Camballo laughd, and Algarsife, 120 

but Canac blushd as sweetest ^^ morn in may, 
and queene Ethelta^^ ioyd, as att a playe, 
vrginge22 the kinge shoold pledgd bee, through the 

table. 123 

so^^ round the loves draught went, like measurable, 
everie24 one ioyenge^^ how it wrought (once in), 
till all the round went on a mirrie pinn. 

2*5 "And" (quoth Cambuscan) " yee, my lovelie 
boyes,^^ 
because I meane, t'endow alike^'^ your ioies, 128 

all yee three shalbee marryed^s on a daye, 
in my owners court, in best and nobliste raye ; 



1—1 own hand writinge 2—2 whome ^ Goddess hie 

4 Yet ^ A. omits ^ by 

7—7 so like ! bright ! pure ! cleere ! meeke ! wise ! modest I faire ^ As 

9 not 1^ save that by so much i^— ^^ A. 07tiits 12—12 ynder 

1^ nathlesse ^* theam ^^ said ^^ saie now 

37—17 (the nectar takings vp for all, and som) 18— 18 heere is ^^ Wheareat 

20 as fresh as ^i Etheelta 22 and said 23 tho 24 each 

25 reioicing<? 26—26 u^o yoo too" (said Cambuscan) "mine OAvn boies" 

27 a like t'endowe 28 wedded 29 within my 



and will entertain 
them well. 



Pt. III.] Camhiiscan orders Jousts ; Canace the Prize, 19 

wheare shall assemble ^ all th'nobilitie, cambuscan win 

have all the 

on notice sent^ to th Land of faerie. 132 Knights 

So shall the chivalrie of everie Courte, 

wheare fame, or^ honor, ever made resort, 

and all faire Ladies, dwell they farr or neare, and fair Ladies 

shall have their bewties tryed by swoord and speare; 136 

and everie knight w7^^ch'* best in fight him beare, 

shall have a Ladye worthie of his phere ; 

with honor donn ^them in^ humanitie, 

after the manner of old faerie ; 140 

^Wantinge theare, in the meane, no entertaine,^ 

as well for them as for theire horse and traine. 

but knightes and Ladies, wanting "^dewe desart,'^ 

shall (as they came) by la we of amies depart." 144 

^Tho purseyvauntes and herande^' hee bid call,^ He caiis for his 

whoe foorthwith stoode before him in the haul, 
in riche cote armors (as that office blasethe), 
with solemne trumpeter, whome the people gazeth. 148 

^'' Goe quicke " (quoth ^ hee), ^' and this my will pro- lo ioustespro- 

1 • clamed '^^ 

Ciaime, and bids them pro- 

in courtes and campes wheare honor men^^ darraigne, claim Jousts 

and saye, that vertue, ^^to more noble make/^ 

when Sol, ^^the martial Lion shall o'retake,^^ 152 

evn this dale f ortie dales, in Serra towne 40 days hence in 

I will propose the prize of faire ^^ renowne : 

my ioye, love, life, my deerest-bewtie^^ deere, 

i^my onlie daughter Canac^^ present heere, 156 for his daughter 

whose i^truith and bewtie^^ Cambal will maintaine, 

with speare, swoord, sheild, to bee moste soveraigne 

and looke, whoe by knightes service and^^ desert, 

her winns, shall have my land too with my^^ hart, 160 and ws Land. 

1 shalbee mett ^ on somniance ^ of ^ that ^—^ in fitt 

6—6 jj0^ wanting*? entertainementes in the meane '^—'^ faire desert 

8—8 Tho bid hee Pursevantes ! and Herault^s call ^~^ " Runn foorth " (said 

10—10 j^ omits 11 ought i^—i^ to nobilitate 

13—13 ig in ii^Q martial Lion sate i* all ^^ deerest daughter 

16—16 Qanace mine onlie solace i7— 17 bewtie valient i^ i^^^^ 



19 



mine 



C 2 



20 Cmnhuscan is applanded. Music is praisd. [Pt. III. 

and all that Camballs courage makes not good, 
I will : " so signd the warrant with his blood. 

and good queene ^Ethelta, midst of the haul,^ 
stood^ vp, and said '^ Amen ! " so rose they all.^ 164 

^At that all people out cried/ "God save the 
kinge/' 
^and all their hattes gann tosse vp, catch, and flinge ;^ 
for bee it right or wronge ^a kinge dothe treate,^ 
most peopl applaude '^it, as th'^'admire the greate : 1G8 
^eccho repeatinge over all againe,^ 
trumpeted and-^^ shaggbutte^, cornete^, lowd acclaim e, 
1^ what everie steeples belles outrange in peale, 171 

w7^?^ch no mans tonge, ne hartes ioye/^ could conceale, 
12 wind and stringe mnsicke, on alP^ instrumented 
of sweete touche, ^^quicke shakej^^"^ nimblest dividente*', 
with i^straines on straines, exchaunginge mode^^ and 

tyme, 
thither to^'^ call Pernassus sisters nyne ; 176 

to barken at the gardine windowes ho we 
these voices, and ^^ those viok^, they allowe : 
i-'ne Orpheus, Arion,!'' Amphion coold more^^ 
then i^robb men of them-selves^^ to Concordes lore : 
Concorde proceedinge out of harmonie, 
harmonic, out of Concordes melodie, 
melodie, out of musickes euphonie, 
euphonic, out of vnites symphonie; 184 

20 Love beinge semster, peace ^^ the sampler bore ; 
21 the woodbirdes chirmes eontestinge this^i vprore. 



Queen Kthel sa^-^s 
Amen. 



J' oik sliont "God 
save the King ! '* 



^fuU peace ^ 



Trumpets, churcli 
bells. 



string-music, 



Love and Peace 
rule. Tiie Birds 
cliime in. 



1—1 Etheelta amid them all [Doitce had orig. before them all] ^ i^tept 

2 the haul ^—^ the people crieDgip out 

^—^ not sparing<s hattes ue cappes aloft to fling*? ^-^ what king*'^^ I'epeate 

'^—'^ as they ^~^ A. omits ^~^ w/iich Eccho for them oft repeates againe 

1^ with, tmmpett^s 

11—11 and everie churches bell^.9 so rang^ this peale, as that no hart its own ioie 

12—12 ]3^t that both wind, and strungen 13— is light shakes 

14—14 novel straines, oft changing^ mood ^^ did thither ^^ with 



IT— ir Arion, Orpheus 



19—19 to robb all theire hartes 



20—20 wheare Love the semster, truith 
21—21 woodbirdes contesting*? with this iust 



Pt. III.] Bisgmt of Al(jarsifi\ Camhmcans heir, 21 



But, all !^ some musicke liatlie cromaticke times, 



188 



Algarsife is dis- 
gusted that the 
winner of Canaoe 



192 



196 



is to have the 
Land, to which he, 
Algarsife, is heir. 



He goes out 



200 



to his evil mates, 



204 



which the sweete notes discordantlie perfumes, 
for then 2 Algarsife ^oft the lipp gann^ hytt, 
when first ^ hee heard his father, (as^ hee sytt) 
depose, that hee whoe^ shoold Canace winn, 
should have his kingdom "^too, and her/ and him, 
'* But I am eldest sonn," (quoth Algarsife) 
'' wheareby the land is mine after his life ; 
and if it bee my birthe-right to bee kinge, 

I brooke no partnership in suche a thinge : " ^ 
So foorthe hee strooke, and, ^as he iettes elate,^ 
^Ogann wincke with one eye at him selfe in state ;^^ 

II imbibes eake with his aier, that^^ emulation 

which, soone degenerates owne^^ education; 

sithe i^castinge, how his^^ formes and faces viewe 

motel* simihze his father, yet vntrewe, 

and keepei^ in companie the worser sort, 

Paridlistes (i^the vile slaunderi^ of the court) 

alluringe woomen, fiattringe servinge men, 

i-" ambitious plotters, tailers prowdinge them,i^ 

IS bribers that teach to levie lawlesse coine, 

stabb-learninge fencers, carrowcers of wine/^ 

detractinge parasites, bringers of newes, 

false dice and carders, wdth all cheatinge crewes,i^ 

20siders that feede, nay bio self/^-gaine-made faction, 

suche setters idlie thrive, whoe^^ lacke suche action. 212 

1 6 ! ^ harsh 2—*^ hard his lipp did * once 
6 that 7-7 ^vith her, Land 
8 Ash, here inserts : L6 sinnes classe, demonstrating^ own condicion, 
all manner crimes brok^ loose are in ambition, 
theare love, truith, iiistice, suffring<9 extirpation, 
wheare Vice them servile leadeth vnder passion. 
^—^ so deport^5 elate 10—10 ^s wincking^:; seemes none see taspire in state 
11—11 with th'aier imbibing^ huff snuff ^'^ prime i3— 13 ^q^ proiect<?s with 
14 to ^^ for keepes lo— lo vilest slanders 
17—17 proiectinge plotters, (Villanies loven) 
18—18 stabb-teaching^ ffensers, quaffers heere and wine, 
vile canvacers extorting all for coyne, 
1^ A. inserts lines 207, 208 after line 210. 
10—20 -vvith sj'^ders gayninge most by th' art of faction, ellfs sterven setters 
while they 



plotters, 



20 O fencers, 



carders, &c. 
(f.6) 

^ whear<9 



22 Of Algarsife s false Pride and Flatterers, [Pt. III. 



When Algarsife 
made love to the 
false Lady of the 
Lake, 



lie drank up a 
Mermaid 



(set there by false 
Videria) who bred 
deceitful Fancy in 
him. 



Algarsife's low 
parasites 



flatter him. 



and say he'll do 
wonders at the 
Tournament. 



^ISFaye, when liee by th' mill-pond syde, love did make 

to Merlins false love (th' Ladie of the Lake), 

hee on the liquid-simpringe-cristal sawe 

annother face, the Mliioki t' him-selfe to drawe, 2 1 G 

he calld, huggd, kissd : and to carrowse more pleasure, 

dranck vp a mer-maide, w/i^'ch him caught in th' 

seasure, 
whome false Videria vnderneathe had sett, 
to conceave by him (as hee liste begett) 220 

Fancie (the chaungelin of imagination), 
w/i^'ch blindlie speculates in perturbation, 
and swellinge, to it-selfe gann ravishe sense, 
in th' insolent miste of concupiscence. 224 

since when, of all his owne conceiptes w///ch please 

him, 
his humoristes (as midwives) waite to ease him.^ 
2 whence they whoe fetch e their counselled from times 

clock,^ 
tlie shollowe ^vulgus (w^averinge weathercock)^ 228 
^on Algarsife bowncd^ Phaetons highe praise, 
"kind man," "brave faerie knight," ^not one but 

sayes 
hee will miraculous-straunge wonders doe^ 



in daye of turniament, when it com??i too. 



232 



^lace :- 



2-2 
3—3 
6—6 



These lines are omitted in Ash., and the following inserted in their 

amongst w/^ich brothers spendeth Algacife, 

like those to behonizen [?] whiff for whiff, 

that out spilt what they lack, in keepe too much, 

as if minervaes frame ought not bee such, 

but must bee taught by thease, theh^^ waie to patch 

the medcind vnto amies (the tosspott match), 

whoe changingY^ parboild half^ blood for the rawe, 

doe make a man a Jack^ of barlie strawe : 

pott bombard mutinous combustionist^, 

new fieringe illions Troy with that same fist 

that seldom tries what Custom doth recover, 

doth prove a valient mans taske to give over. 
so now they, whoe tooke counsell of the pott 

Vulgar (weather-waverings; sott) ^-'^ bowncd on Algarsife 

and so him raise, as yf hee had a worthies taske to doe 



Pt. III.] Algarsifehefoold by Flatterers, Camballoioise, 23 

^ some cleapd liim^ bravest horseman : others guest Some flatterers 

. praise Algarsife's 

him a stronge^ pike, and for foote service best. 

some praisd his legg, ^ shape, spirit, witt, gesture, face, 

and so insinuate as to grace disgrace ; 236 

othersome on the point of praise gann cavil, 

sithe drincke and smoke had bi^^ord his vnsjirt navil. 



^OiD^ 



some smild hee was his fathers livelie bird, some, ws likeness 

to his Father: 

^wA^'ch lookd and spake like him^ at everie word : 240 

and, by^ owne humors, ^so gann vale we him, 

as hope proiectes owne purchas^ by his sinn. 

^ these weare his fleshe-flies, these "^ him magnifies, 

^ yet bin his moste intestine^ enimies. 244 they are his 

enemies. 

But other folke, of tardier^ observation, otiier folk eon- 

•TPi» demn his base 

^" noted Algarsifes straunge vnprincelie fasshion, tendencies, 

how he disranckes him-selfe from^^ noblest ranckes, 

11 and gives base praefaces of looser pranckes. 248 

all which, they sawe,ii yet durst not reprehend, 

sithe 12 principalities binn so esteemd, 

as they 12 escape to pleasures i^had-I-wiste, and seif-induig- 

vnkend, vntaxt of eye, tonge, rule, or fiste : 252 

Yea, theare the great swimm, fleshti^ in Libertie, 

I'^Wheare dares no prophet the fault specif ye. 

Howbeet, theyi^ Camball sawe himi^ beare at feaste Thej^seeCam- 
i^as sober as the straungest-new-bid gwest,i^ 256 temperate, seif- 

eakei"^ temperate as bravei^ Phocion, stowt, austeare, 



con tr old. 



1—1 him cleaping^ ^ ^all 

2—3 lookes, bodie. Others cavil that smoke and drinck^ bigg swelt him at 
the navil. *— * lookd like him, spake alike ^ and so by their 

^—6 valueng<9 him as their<? own private should gaine 

'^—'^ thus flattringe parasit6;s 

^— s then whome hee had no greater ^ soberer 

10—10 lo^xd Algarsifes distempred princeles fasshion, sith him disrancketh 
from the 

11-11 whear«5 quicklie publisheth ignoble pranckes, whome though so sawe 

12—12 princes by strong*? hand not love, ascend, and theare 

13-13 as them list, without accompt to rule by tonge and fist : flesh theare 
exvl tinge most, 

11—14 whear not one prophet dares faultes specifie. Yet all men 

1^ to 16-16 jjjj(j pleasures, of all gwestes the modes test, 



Folk hold Cani- 
ballo better than 
■sife ; 



24 Camhuscan pla7is a splendid Theatre. [Pt. III. 

^so with Algarsif liini tliey noold compare, 
sithe thone seenid but to pillcre fame by chaiince, 
thother^ by temperate-virtuous ^ valiance 260 

^to sliewe, tliouglie gule and avarice hunt for store, 
nature hath but owne needed, excesse hathe more. 
whence theire opinions thus gann halson it, 
Aiga.'sife has the how th'elder hath the land : th' yoni?er the witt.^ 264 

land, raxnballo 

the wit. ^ Whearefore they valued Camball, as of right, 

tliat promisd proofed of^ a trewe faerie knight. 

^Cambuscan, in the meane time, had designd^ 
the rarest artisans that coste mote find ; 268 

some architected, wA/ch^ knewe all Geometrie, 
some curious kervers of imagerie, 
some liefe infusinge painters at the eye, 
some arras w^eavers, some of tapestrie, 272 

^some astronomers ; some trewe cronoclers, 
(6 rare ! of times gestes not^ false registers.) 
and but one poet : ^swearinge it in rime, 
one Phoenix lives, one Poet at one time.^ 276 

^^With these rare witte6', Cambuscan pleasd conferr^^ 
to build a large, highe^^-sumptuous theater, 
all to containe that coms,^^ yonnge, old, riche, pore, 
i^openinge fro th' easte to th' weste,i^ one throughfare 
dore 280 

^"^to widen with the daye,^^ and shutt at night, 
^^th' whole forme to bee as round ^^ as globe edight, 
with all the sphears, and each starr W)^/ch^^ dothe err, 
1^ with the fixt starrs,^^ and th'all sphears commover 



^ great theater 
for y^ marriage ^ 
Cambuscan gets 
rare architects. 



painters, 



and one Poet, 

a Phcenix, 

and bids them 
build a large 
Theatre 



as I'ound as the 
Globe, and with 
many Spheres or 
Floors. 



1—1 SO woold not him with Algarsifo compare, whoe seemd but fame to robb 
by errors chauoce ; but this 

'^ rule, and '"^""^ omitted in uS^sli. 

*— * they thearefore Cambal deemd in his own right, proofs promising^ him 



^—^ oni. in Ash, 



This while Cambuscan carefullie designd ^ whoe 



^-^ some trewe Astrologers, some Croniclers of times gestes, not to plaie 
9—^ idealie Divine, for but one Phoenix liveth at one time. 
10—10 ^ith w/wch high wittes ! the kinge did oft conferr, 



11 and 



13—13 fpom east to west to ope 



H— 14 and with the daie to wid'n 15— 15 i\^q frame as round to move, 
1" that 17-17 all fixed starres 



Pt. III.] The Floors Sf Arras of Camhmcaris Theatre, 25 

its vault stelliferous, of liardist blewe, 

f ul] of faire lightes, for vp and dowries reviewe ; 

with the fowre windes^ to shutt and open them; 

the whole to rest vppon one axell stem, 288 This Theatre is to 

turn on an axle 

the 2 spindle it sustaininge, streight^ to stand 

on well ioind mightie okes of faerie lande ; 

w/a"ch vnderground, ^even at the roote,^ shoold have 

wheeles crampt to wheeles, to move w^th waters wave, moved by wheels 

. underground. 

a glorious dial for the sonns hott race, 293 

with ground^ vp-spowtinge springes for blithe solace. 

ore againste^ these the learnd^ sciences seavn 

(the Cosmical considerers of Heaun) ; 296 

I ts^ lowest flore to heare the basest sort, (f. eh.) 

w7^^ch^ (so they live) ^^care not a good report ;i^ are to be the 

, , T . T « . , . , * basest folk : 

the higher roomes ot mansions to consists 

11 of them w7^^chll more and more growe worthiest, 300 

i^wheather it bee a^^ knight or ladie bright, above, knights, 

ladies, 

the balence ^^\>o weighe out their deedes by right. ^^ 
and some for soldiers, whoe in service gote and soldiers, 

graye heares and skarrs (the ^^pathes of painefuU 
notei4). 304 

i^but th'inner galleries that runn the round. The inner Gai- 

leries are to be 

if not With richest arras, hunge to ground, imng with arras 

bidden hange vp th'arras of chast Dians storie 

(the cloistred misterie of old virgins glorie), 308 

w/itch once Acteons lust-full eyes misconster 

so as it blew the flame, selfe blasd a monster, 

that rann to save owne passions in owne hart, 

was of them soone devowrd that fedd his smart. 312 

And those riche tapestries of Dido queene, and tapestry of 

longinge as muche to see as to bee scene 
of hard harted Eneas t' prove in sense, ^^ 

1 windes &c to ^ whose ^ rjght *-* at the workes roote 

^ from thearth ^ and ore gainst '' trewe ^ the ^ whoe 

10—10 least care how them deport. ii—ii of all that 

12—12 w7?ich chauncinge to bee 13— 13 j^^th to waigh theire meed^s aright 

14-14 pledges of promote. i^— ^^ 14 lines omitted in A ah. 



2G Cambuscans Theatre, III news copies. [Pt. III. 

^luste breeder not love, thoughe bloes concupiscence, 
w/n'cli settinge selfe on fyer, selfelie consumes, 317 

custom e begonn is bellowes, fewell, fumes. ^ ^ 

And looke what natures selfe bathe ^ not supplyed, 
Paintings and shall ^ bj queiut painters hand bee stonfyed,^ 320 

Poems shall hang 

iu the Theatre. wheareof what is not ^vnderstoode of men,^ 

to bee demonstrated by poete^ penn. 
In its midst shall "^lastcliej the local place "^ of turnament 

be the Tourna- iitqi i .t, 

ment ground. shoold^ keepe the midle ward, or^ regiment 324 

i^of bothe those endes whose trophies thus shoold 

rise,^^ 
at th'easte end truith, At the weste end Justice, 
his other embleams and conceipte^ that weare 
11 in store,ii to bewtifye this^^ theatere, 328 

weare infinite, ^^and note by mee^^ bee sedd 
(Don^* Chaucer, Lidgate, Sidney, Spencer dead) ; 

The 6 Workmen onlie^^ hee wilM his^^ worckmen six make haste, 

I'^ne spare for cost, while ^'^ time owne lampe dothe 
wast. 
i^iiineives.^^ i^Cambuscan, glad his worcke was well begonn, 333 

vieringe a-round sawe a swifte horseman com??^,l^ 

A dusty horseman amid the powMrcd^^ duste that blindeth^i th'aier, 

to steale th' approche of dismall hastes repaire, 336 
22wheare no grasse grewe vnder his horses feete, 
all while his horn bio, speedes his gallop fieete. 

gallops up. some post hee seemd, that gallopd^s t' out-runn strife, 

1— i omitted in Ash. 
2 As7i. here inserts : — the final deedes determining^? at last, 

whoe weare heroes worth ie to bee plact. 
2 had ^ should ^ Vhistorified. ^— ^ right conceavd by men ! 

^— '^ and lastelie the faire place ^ to ^ for 

10—10 .^^^ at both endes ! thease trophies to arise n— ii om. in Ash. 

^^ this noble is— 13 ^lot heer<5 now to '^^ old ^^ but ^^ all his 

17—17 not sparing*? cost, Wheare '^^—i^ om. in Ash. 

19—19 The work^ thus ordred, Cambuscan discried 

an hastie horseman thitherward to ride 

20 powdred ^^ w/wch blinded 

22—22 UQ greene grasse growings vnder thacknies feete, 

his home denouncing^ first his message fleet ; 

whoe seemd some state post, postings 



Pt. III.] Cambuscans Town of Fregiley revolts, 27 

^yet none that rides in state, but runns for life.^ 340 

The kinge lookes vp^ ; the post alightes at th'^ gate, The Post dis- 

. mounts at the 

and with his packet, of that moriiinges date, Paiace gates. 

demaundes his present accesse to the kinge. 

^the servaimtes him respect (hast furtheringe). 344 

but Canac stoode at her glasse prospective canace goes to 

in th'presence windowe, seeinge all arive, 

wheare shee mote lantskipp viewe and seas discrye, 

and wandringe^ travilers, bothe farr and nye, 348 

^whence shee with speede discendes^ to meete the poste. 

Who, after baysaunce donn her, it^ discloste He teiis her that 

that Fregiley, the kinges provincial towne, 

tooke amies, and they^ turnd traitors to the crowne. t^regiUare- 
his other newes weare but as general, 353 

suche as the vulgar catche before^ it fall, 
i^yet fallen of course (as vsual),^^ with state setters, 
^^to putt lies in postes mowthes,^^ truithe in theire 
letters. 356 

^^Shee heard him out^^ in all that was to gather, she win not open 

^^yet noold the packet ope^^ without her father, 
i^tho, sending^ the post to th' kittchins warme repast^^, 
she rann to seeke her fath'r in all the haste, 360 but seeks her 

Father. 

vp hille§, down dales, all waies, from ^^ place to place, 
i^thoughe near could find hiiiii^ out, but wheare he 

was. 
^'^at length, amongst his workfolke him shee spide,^'' theater%*^^ 

1—1 in w/iich each runes the wager of his lief^, 2 q^i 3 lighten at the 
4—4 whose servauntes readie are him vp to bring*?, 
While Canace in her mirrours perspective, 
sawe at the presence windowe his arive : 
for in it Lantskipp, seaes eake, shee mote skrie, and errant 
6—6 with speed shee thearefore goes ^ thus ^— ^ ^^^^^ ^^ j^^ji^ 
^ weare turnd ^ vp ear^ 10—10 of yeq, and course betidinge 

11—11 lies in Postes mowthes to putt, 
12—12 whome out shee heard, 13— 13 y^^^ woold not ope the pack^ 
14—14 whome to seeke out shee rann in hast post hast, 
while the lad finde.9 the kitchin clerkes repast, 
but shee her father tracings? 
15—15 j^ijjj jiever could find I6— 16 ^^^^^ i^^ j^gj^^ 
17—17 amid his workemeii ; Wheare shee him discried 



28 



Canace finds Cam- 
buscaii in a svveet 
country place. 



^ Cambuscans 
sorroweJ> 



She is out of 
breath with 
running j 



slie kneels and 
gives him the 

Letter. 



He opens it, 
is dismayd, 
drops it, 
and goes off. 
(f.7) 



Cambuscan hears of the Revolt, [Pt. III. 

in a nioste pleasinge meade by tli' river "^ syde, 364 

^of soile most fertile; th' aier, groves, pure and sweet/^, 
lielthelye^ temperate, and for pleasure meete ; 
^woodea gracing tli' illes^ fiowres stord tlie humble 

plaines,^ 
ann bappier seate longd not to bis demaines, 368 

^tbat perfumd all witb sweetest balmes adore, 
and farr prospected from land to land it bore.^ 

^But now all's pleasanter, that sbee is comm. 
*^ Deere Daughter/' (quotb bee) ^'wbat ist^ makes yee 
ronnr' 372 

Wbile sbee, ^ quite mute witb runinge,^ breatbd so 

fast, 
^as if, mild Zepbir loste, sbee found bis blast ;^ 
^beat openinge cbirries, roses, pinckes, and all, 
white lillies, violete^ blewe (her faces pall).^ 376 

^^fallinge on knee, gave vp (kissinge her band) 
the packett, -which badd newes gave tvnderstand. 

Hee kindlie tooke yt, and broke vp the seale, 
but oh ! its first word gann^^ all mirth repeale. 380 
^1 whence turninge, lettinge^^ face and letter fall, 
^^stoppd soddainlie, lookd vp : so^^ leaves them all. 

'^^ Which seene,^^ page Amidis stoopd for the Letter, 
in hope the cause or^^ newes woold fall out better. 384 

i^But sadd Canac, seeinge^^ her father gonn, 



rivers 



-^ of fertile soile, fresb aier, as pure, as sweets, most helthie 



3—3 flowres deckinge the coole woodds, and modest plaines, 
4—4 perfumd with balmes sweet odors, and, beside, 
farr fetchd prospectives furthern land^^^ discried, 

^— s o?}i. i7h Ash. 
6—6 all waxing<? pleasanter, when shee was comw-. 
to whome hee thus, " What daughter" 
7—7 vi^ith runinge, meekelie 
8-8 as Zephir ]eesing<? his, found out her blast, ^~^ om, in Ash. 
10—10 whoe, pitching^ on her knee, the packet gave 
of no good tidinges, though of battaile brave. 
WMoh hee tooke kindlie, and brake vp the seale, 
whose verie first line did 
n~n foi- turnings Mies both ^^-^^ distract in purpose, solie 
i-d-i^ On this 1* and ^^—^^ but Canace seing^ thus 



Pt. III.] The Revolt of Fregiley pains Cambiiscan, 29 

sliewcl ill her face her hart was allmost doiin ; Canace and 

for, in^ her mh'ror, shee foresawe and knewe 

great mischiffe^ could not chouse but thence ensewe. 388 

2 so to her selff? shee sobbd,^ like churlishe rayne 

^w'liioh. blubbrethe^ gardines bewties of disdaine. 

^ after shee hies her, with page Amidis,^ the page Amidis 

for it encreasd her grief e her lord to misse, 392 cambuscan. 

whome sorrowfull, or as in extacie, 

shee fonnde, or rather, in diepe agonie. 

^but then t' have^ scene how each beheld each other, 

mote soone^ impression strooke in anie lover. 396 

he, sorrowfull for Fregiley his towne ; 

shee, heavie^ for the losse of trewe renowne. 

hee, ^pittienge her state^ and the common state ; 

shee, greevinge^ what woold folio we of debate. 400 

he melancholic, pale, entynd, offended ; 

shee meekelie prayeng^ all ^^weare well amended. ^^ 

Againe of Amidis hee tooke the letter, He reads the 

Letter, 

^^w/n'ch read, hee^^ thumpd his brest (as fault6.«? old^^ 
debter) ; 404 

oft sighinge^^ as hee read ^*it, shooke^* his head* and reproaciies 

i^**ha ¥regiley, false Eregiley,"^^ hee sedd. revolt, 

i^to Canac turninge tho (beinge betrayd),!^ 

thus whispered, ^'Tis the worse for thee, my mayd, which wui injure 

thy fortunes dauiiger and thy hopes delaye, 409 

will blowes, blood, death, cost, in a mortal fray." 
all w/i^'ch, ^"^on his smoothe browe-'^''' engravd thintent 
of taminge rebelks : so it seemd hee ment. 412 

IS shee knewe yt well, wittnes more new conim tears, 
that hartie sighes are griefes betrothd compears.^^ 

1 |)y 2—2 sobbd thearefore to her selfe, 3— ^ when wasteth 

^-^ Yet after him shee goes, with Amidis ^— ^ Wheare, to have 

^» would diepe '^ hartgreevd ^—^ her state pittieng^ ^ sighinge 

10—10 xiiote well bee ended. n— n and readinge ^^ q^yxi i^ pawzing<? 

14-14 ^{^ shake ^^-^^ and thus, " Ah Fregiley I thow false 1 " 

16-16 j-jjj^ turning*? to Canace (now quite betraid) 17— 17 vppon his browe 
18-18 w/iich shee forespelling^', read it in salt teares, 

w/iich still are cares, and sorowes diepe compeares, 



30 Camhuscan sups. Mhelta is loroih, [Pt. IV. 



Cambuscan is 
cald to supper, 



but not 3 words 
are spoken. 



'^sad oheeve^ 



The Sun sets. 



tokening mist or 
rain. 



Part IV. 
Algarsife rebels. 



Canace learns to 
manage the 
Brazen Horse. 



In this^ sadcl plight a messenger is seene, 
bare headed, sent^ from Ethelta, the queene, 416 

lowtinge,^ that supp'r expected his maiestie. 
but suche a supp'r as wayters near stood bye, 418 

for not three wordes amongst them all weare spoken, 
w/z?-'ch that theire mindes wrought busier, did betoken, 
^Onlie queene Ethelta gann storme, and voAve 
vengeance vppon all traiters hartes to plowe.^ 
Camball sayd nought : Algarsife was not theare, 
W/^zoh to new stirrs, more presages mote reare.^ 424 

^By this bright Titan ^ hidd at west his head 
in freckled ^ white clowdes, turninge^ white to read, 
and^ redd to opal blacke : w7r/ch soddaine'^^ lowre, 427 
foretold, ^1 the morne woold bringe foorth miste or 
showr. 

Canto quarto, 

Algarsife gains te his sier rebelled ; 

queene Ethel vowes iust death thearef ore ; 
Canac, Yideriaes witchcrafts telks, 

and learnes the brazen horses lore. 



Queen Ethelta's 
wrath keeps her 
awake. 



Tho' night comes, The sable^^ night (though tes wakefull counseler, 
cares chamberlaine, ^^daungers percursiter^^), 
invited bothe the kinge and Queene to rest, 
that^"^ slumber mote those ^^ indigested digest ; 
1*5 but shee was so transported into ire, 
as all her d'signes thrett vengeance, swoord, & fyer,^^ 
for princelie ^'^state (once kinglie honor wounded) i" 
n'is safe till iustice traitors ^^ hathe confounded. 



^ yvMoh. 2 comd ^ saying<? *—* om. in Ash. 

5—5 sith angrie Etheelta did dieplie vowe, 

her vengeance on all traiters hesides to plowe. 

6 bear^ "^—"^ so now sad Titan ^— ^ cloudes soone turnd from 

9 from 1^ neves sad ^^ forespelld ^^ gulleine 

13—13 busnesses harbinger i* if ^^ theas 

16—16 ]3^J3 2l\ in vaine ; for shee's so bent to ire 

as her designes but vengeance thrett, and tire : 
17— IT honor, feelings, kingdom, wounded ^^ treason 



Pt. IV. ] The effect of Alffccrsifes llevolt 3 1 

To this, the kinge ^add^^, Algarsif was^ missinge ^anxieueindm- 

ctclties^ 

from supper, without^ cravinge parentes blissinge. Aigarsife's ab- 

this niore^ encreasd Etheltaes indignation, Mother. 

^to tax him att th'vndntifull boyes fasshion. 12 

biit^ thoughe Cambuscans love his passion stayd, 

yet deemd hee,^ such ann absence ought bee wayd, 

specialie now/ when Fregiley re volte th,^ 

thus the sadd twaine^ the matter long consulteth ;^^ 16 His Father hesi- 
tates 
^^his love yet lothd to turne it selfe to hate^i 

againste that statelie towne, which hee of late 

with 80^2 rare kerved workes had polished, 

highe^^ sumptuous towres and trophies garnished, 20 

^^that trulie to distroy't^* on iuste occasion, to destroy his fine 

city Fregiley. 

^^woold forage hates hart, for loves emulation. 

Thus vengeance, ire, love, lodgings ^^ in one nest, 
spent tilP^ a snuff the nightes lampe without rest, 24 
tilP^ morpheus ebon mace, ytipd with lead, 
IS had spred his sable curtaine o're theire head. 

But ear sonn sett,^^ Canacies lookiiige glasse Canaee's magic 

2^ had to her giassd^o from farr the verie case, 28 ^^her/oresiffM^^ 

Which, shee beholdinge, from her closet rose, (f. i b.) 

and, weepinge, ^^quicklie to her parents^ goes :^^ 
love whome, on knees, shee sayd, her hap was bad the bad news of 

to bee the bringer still of newes vnglad. 32 ^^^^^ 

"Whie sol" (22quoth they) "tell yt vs 22 daughter 
deere, 
thoughe badd newes, rifer bin,23 then good to heere." 

1—1 did add Algarsifes 2— 2 ^ omits ^ with not * both which 

^— ^ to tax in him vile boies vndewteous fashion, wheare, 

^ Yet thought that '' especialie ^ revolted ^ paire lo consulted 

11—11 howbeet his love, lothd yt to turne to hate, i^ much ^^ ^n]^ 

1*— 14 to raze yt thearefore though 

15—16 hee deemd love ought impugn hates p?'^vooation. 

L6 thus ire, vengeance, love, lodgd 

16 to 17 though 

18—18 strove with his curtaines blacks, to hide their<? head. Vntill by dawne, 

19-19 om. in Ash. 20-20 had glassd to her 

21—21 iQ her parentis quicklie goes ; 22-22 gajd they, " it tell vs " 

23 are 



32 



Canace legs forgiveness for Algarsife. [Pt. IV. 



Canace pi'ays 
Cambuscan to 
pardon Algarsife. 



^ )/e queenes 
■indigvation'^ 
q. J:thelta, his 
Mother, 

denounces Algar- 
sife's iniquities. 



11 Canacies 



1* loue of a 
father i^ 



Cambuscan takes 
tinne to consider. 



but resolves to 
arm. 

alius 70.^^ 



1" Pardon my brother, pardon 6," shee sayde :^ 
^' my brother Algarsife (I feare) betrayd, 36 

whome the Fregiliens ^have gott^ in their handes, 
and him have captive ^made vnder^ their bandes." 

'^Captive! nay Captaine," (qnoth^ the queene) "them 
o're " 
^so rowsinge her,^ vowd hee shoold dye thearefore; 40 
" false caitiff, traitor ! thy stolne liberties, 
thy pleasures vnrestraind, thy surquedries, 
thy gracinge publicke ^ill, good in private,^ 
thy surphetes, luxuries, ^plottinges in state,^ 44 

weare presages enuff, what thow v^ooldst bee, 
but, as thow art,^ thow doest, so comm to thee." 

This^^ while, Canace melted into teares, 
for brothers faultes, ^YJl^ch weare no faultes^^ of hers, 
i^and while shee pittie beggd for fathers love, 
noold from Cambuscan once her eies remove. 

Who (good kinge) felt more bruntes^^ by this vprore 
^^then yet in wisdom?ri hee ment to explore. ^^ 52 

his Queenes revenge, his daughters mercie suite, 
his sonns falshode,^^ his owne truithes condispute,^^ 
his love and iustice, falshode to exile, 
^^and serve all turnes, woold crave some longer while, 
more sayd hee not, sith tim's now t'mend all harmes, 
and thearefore rowzd him vp, to goe to armes. 

Tho sadd Lord^^ Phebus^ in a drippinge morne, 59 



2—2 now have 
then rowzing^ vp 
^ so now as th'art 



1—1 II Q j-\^Q^ j^y brother pardon," oft shee praid, 
3—3 ]edd into *— * om. in Ash. ^ said ^— 
''—'' 111^5, good in thie state, ^—^ gaines by debate, 

10 All this 11-11 om. in AsJh. 12 fault 
13—13 and beggd with meeke eies fixd on Cambuscan, 
for love ! and pittie sake ! to spare the man. 
and hee (kind king^) well felt 
14—14 ojji^ i^ jigji^ 15—15 more bruntes, then hee in wisdom ment explore, 
1^ vile falshode 1^ dispute 
18—18 would, to serve eithers turne, crave longer While, 
more would not sale, but to amend thease harmes, 
did resolutelie him prepare to armes. 
By this. Dim 

1^ om. in Ash. 



Pt. IV.] Canace denounces the Witch Viderea. 33 

peepd through his tawnie locker (forespellinge storme), 
^and rufflinge auster made all clowdes one clowd, 
to dight a mantr, him gainste the raine to shrowd. 

i^ow^ Canac havinge oportunitie 
of time, place, grace (devoide of company e), 64 

besought her parentes leave t'affoord^ her speeche : 
3 they, givinge Lovinge Leave ^ to her beeseeche. 

" It yrckes my verie sonle and hart '' (quoth shee), 
**posethe^ my witt^5 and iudgmentes depth, to see, 68 
^that suche a divelishe witche, flinger of trickes, 
shoold exercise on vs her slye magickes,^ 
orelooke our cattell, ^and infect all thinges ',^ 71 

distort their bodies, ^and theire limbes round wringes ; 
wrest the streight crooked,^ the right eyes besquint ; 
^poison the spirited, theire sinewes wreath and stint f 
thrust ouglie fowle shapes on the fairest stature ; 
bio we opposition twixt nature and nature ; 76 

i^the matter stupifie, of youths generation ; 
counterfeate, yet ne cann vse copulation ; 
traduce the witt, from own witt,^^ to her will, 
by charmes obsequious, till them selves they kill ; 80 
11 with good commix badd,ii imbibd willingelie, 
till frend to frend, i^turne mortal enimye ; 
demolishe all thinges, as spites spoliator,!^ 
in spite off (yet suffred by) their creator ; 84 

in natures sicke distempers, the slye dealer, 
that to gaine credite, stealer plaies and healer. 

1—1 and Auster having<? swept all clowdes int' oae 

putt on his pensive mantle during moan, tho 
2 to afoord ^~^ whoe lovinglie gave eare 
* doth pose ^—^ ovt. in Ash. 
6—^ that such a wicked — hateful — divelish witch, 

should on vs exercise her magicke twitch, 
''—7 everie things infect, 

^— ^ skinnes and limbes distrect, the strait wrest crooked 
9_9 their arteires poison, nerves stretch, shrinck*?, & stint, 
10—10 the spirit^^s eake stupifie of generation, to counterfeate, yet cannot 
copulation ; theire witt<5s traduce from their wiiies, 
11—11 the bad mix with good, 

12—12 turnes hatefull enimie all thinges demolish, as hates dire privator, 
LANE. • D 



Canace gets leave 
to speak to her 
Parents. 



She is wroth that 



5 a hurtfuU 

should charm and 
infest their ani- 
mals, 



misshape men. 



make suicides, 



and turn friends 
into foes. 



34 



Canace tells who the evil Viderea is. [Pt. IV. 



A woman's Malice 
is infinite. 



This Witch and 
Hellcat is Viderea, 



daughter of Lord 
Homnibone, 



honourd thro' the 
world, 



and a follower of 
King Arthur. 



^my Lord, her drugged ^ weare yet witbstoode by no niarij 
for malice hathe no bottomm in a^ woman." 88 

^ " What 1 what 1 pray whose that % " (quoth the kinge 

& queene), 
for her discourse gann to them pleasant seeme, 
in that theire daughter, a great secret teller, ^ 
of radicke witchcraft, ^and of horrid spelk\9.^ 92 

''saye on, Canac" ^ (quoth they), ^Svhoe is this beast 1 
or^ wheare keepes th'eilcatt, ^ dares all these infest r'*^ 
"Good Lord, tis false Yiderea" (quoth Canac), 
*' a bewteous ladie once, and rich of grace, 
^sithe theldesf^ daughter of lord Homnibone, 
a baron bold abrode, and kind at home : 
whoe, for his prowesse and magnificence, 
with hospitalitie^ of most dispense,^ 
was honord throughe the world, bothe farr & nye, 
as^^ great grandfather of all faire^^ chivalrie. 
his^^ court a schoole was, bothe of artes and armes, 
whither,^^ whoe so complaind of wronges or harmes 
had to theire cause a noble knight assignd, 105 

l^w/^^ch shoold theire wronges right, & beat tirantes 

blind: 14 
accordinge to that ^^ brave societie^^ 
of noblistei'5 Artur of old Faerie, 108 

I'^whoe fetcht from thence his verie president 
of love, iustizd by truith magnificent. 
This false 1"^ Videria, prienge into state, 



96 



100 



1—1 "Whose drugg/^s my Lord, ^ that 
3—3 <' Yea, Whoe is that? how? whie? " said th' King*? and Queene, 
for this (made probable) did to them seeme 
a secret pestilence, wZf^ich shee revel/?^ 
4—* canting^ horrid spell^^. ^~^ what is this misscreant beast? and 



^— ^ darings thus to infest? 



7-7 the eldest 



as the 



^^ om. in Ash. 



12 whose 



hospitalities ' 
13 to wA^'di 



expense 



14—14 that should all wronges right ; and the iyv^nies bind 

15—15 noble misterie ^^ mightie 

17—17 -whoe from thence fetchd his famous president, 

of truith 1 by justice grown magnificent, then this 
18—18 ^))^^,^ i^i jig/i^ 



Pt. IV.] Canaces History of the Witch Viderea, 35 

^and, through a false glasse, dressinge her elate, 112 

WA^'ch glasse (it seemd) was caste in Alchymie, (f. 8) 

to^ amplifye tbinges to monstrositie, His daughter 

, 1 o Viderea took to 

2 fell to selfe likmge, w/iich sh adniird m that^ seif-iove, 

shee sawe, how in^ her selfe to factitate, 116 

and proiecte^^ to begett of greatest great ; 

^wheare, deeminge eminence the ioUiest seat, strove for emin- 

ence, 
that,* turninge courtier, wookP protest as trewe 

^for falshode, cann make purchase by the shewe. 120 

her^ pride and avarice (not yet content) 

'^ blasond her exemplars (her mindes casement), sought applause, 

that all eares woold, and eies her partes admire, 

meaninge (in deede) buf^ to alluer folke nye her, 124 allured folk, 

^whome, with sweete blandishmentes, shee deignd re- 

greete 

(as the caracter^ of ann hipochreete) : 

for it is all dale scene, ^whoe sitter at gaze, 

had rather to bee caught, then catch by th' blaze, 128 

In short time shee so traffickd with them all, 

as shee caught, and was caught of Quadrumal,^ 

and baggd full great Q^wliiaYi was ann^^ hainous crime) 

11 of fowr base 11 miscreant bastardes att one time, 132 andhaddbas- 

w/u'ch to her syde i^had drawne a iollie faction, Lord Quadrumai. 

in hope to bears the swaye at her direction. i^ 

1—1 whear^ looking^ through a false glasse on her fate 

(idealie forgd by art alchymie) did 
2—2 self^ likings giving^ to admire, in that ^ for 
*— ^ that shee mote sitt most eminent in seat, wheare ^ dm'st 
^—6 that falshod^s purchase mad^, seeme faire in shewe. whose 
''— 7 blazd her exemplars as her document, 

so that all eies, and eares, should her admire, 
intending^, theareby, so 
^—^ as, with sweet blandishment^^, mote them invite ; H^ I the caracters 
^— ^ to sitt at gaze, 

as well lookes to bee caught, as catch with blaz^, 
and so in time, shee trafficking^ with all, 
was caught of catching^?, by Lord Quadrumai, 
10—10 w/iich provd that n—ii that bore foure 

12—12 soone drewe a potent faction, 

w/wch hopd to beare all swaie by her direction. 

D 2 



36 Canace tells of Fiderea's evil deeds, [Pt. IV. 

Her Father, Lord but Homiiibone, wlioe was most provident, 

HoDinibone, 

knewe hers/ and her conspirators intent, 136 

2 and, iust at th'instant calld from her all grace, 
ne left one iote of goodnes in the place, 
for whie*? what^ seemd as it, and was not it, 
his reverend niowth ^it qnicklie foorth did spitt, 140 
seizd viderea by and raught the sorceresse fast by the throte, 

the throat, 

Without regardinge ought ^ the strumpetes note, 
^in whonie was left no matter to amendment, 
after all favors reft weare for avengement. 144 

" Counter feate " (quoth hee), '^packe thee, with thy 
ere we ! " 
and thrust her out so* her and hcrs quite out of dores^ hee threwe, 

of doors. 

^^and lockd the gates with suche a secret scale, 

as^ near more state newes shoold to her reveale.'' 148 

Theare Canac breathd, a '^trewe-sweete''' oratresse, 
that^ ne'ar learnt shiftes of ^ gaine by slye degresse, 
^^but with that purest ^^-pure simplicitie, 
i^w/iich hidd no wrinckle from the coningst spie,i^ 152 
look't pittifullie vp in Parentes face, 
Since then, this and thus procecdes, " Now, since this hegge^^^ disgrace, 

Witch has stird . • i . rv. i 

up mischief, what villanie ! what mischilt ! what contagion ! 

strife, what mutinie ! rebellion! strife! invasion! 156 

what loosenes (w/wch this drabb^^ calle-? Libertie) 1 
falsehoods, and what faleshodc (w/z'/ch tliis witch termes veritie) ! 

what tonge-plages^^ (cowardlie acurrilitie) ! 

1 her 
2—2 at tVinstant thearefore, reft from all her grace, 
no iote of goodnes leavings in \tes place : 
for that w7w-ch 
3-2 did instantlie out spitt. 

the sorceress fast catching<9 by the throte, 
without regard had of 
^— ^ intending^? eak^ to leave her nought to amendment, 
when once his gracious favors turnd to avengement, 
dyd bid the counterfeat^ pack<? with her crewe : thus 
^ dore ^—^ the gates fast lockinge witli that secret scale, that 
7-7 faithfull 8 ^v/tich '•> to i^-io ]3ut that of singl & 
11—11 (vv/iich not one wrinclde haviDg6^ of a spie) ^^ hagg.^5 ^^ quean 

14 stahbes? 



Pt. IV.] Canace still recounts Videreds sins, 37 

what quill-gvn^ bownces dares shee not let flyel 160 This witch 

^iJ^aye, whoe or what ist^ not, that spite, or hate, 

that luste, or coste hathe, biat shee shootes at ^ state 1 

for, lett but soldiers walke without the gates, saps soldiers' 

loyalty, 

shee or her bastard es shape to court her mates, 16-1 

wheare-in shee trades, or traines them to her weeles ; 

nay, everie one shee tracethe close at th' eeles, ^"^ corrupts 

every one, 

wheare simbolizethe to insinuate, 

th'imposture of a snake ayminge the pate. 168 

but, farr more glibb, persuades, and slipps all in^ 

at that same * humor, that's* most apt to synn, 

^wheare (warninge her) shee busilie collectes 

fraile moral natures corrupt-impious textf^s,^ 172 collects impious 

texts, 

exhaeld from cithers distances^ extreame, 
and theareof imitablie'*^ deignes declaime, 
^to force a truith^ out of neutralitie, 

^ w/wch is abhorringe to pure sanctitie, 176 perverts trust, 

in spite of all the muses (as I deeme), 

elks (but for her) print never them had seene.^ and flouts sin- 

but pious canons ^^ of synceritie 

11 shee flowtes (as novices stupiditie), 180 

and (as too cold) to lift hott spirited alofte,ii 
so (the good spirit her leavinge) tries the noft,i2 

1 what papern ^~^ naie, what thing(? Is yt 
2—3 th' state : for lett but one sole soldier once out scape, 
and shee, and her sly bastard 6^5, chaung<3 theire shape, 
and thearein trie to traine all to her weeles, 
and everie one so traceth at the heeles, 
as simbolizing^, insinuation makes, 
more glibb then either land or water snakes, 
and theare more ^j persuades, and slippeth in, 

* * humor is 
s— ^ in w7«.ich her warnings? busilie collect<3,9 

natures corrupt, and morak^5 impious textes, 
^ mixtures most ^ for imposture ^—^ a rackd truith, forcd 
9—9 wMch most abhorrs to singl integritie, 
in spite of th' muses pure simplicitie, 
w/wch her caught guiles traduce at sickerlie. 
1^ sanctions 
11—11 flowtes as of novices observancie, 

found too to cold to rear<? hott spirit^s aloft, 
^^ naught 



" I, Canace, fear 
this Viderea's 
^viles. 



38 Canace pleads for Alffarsifes pardon, [Pt. IV. 

to tlie dishonor of ^all antique normes,^ 

^hioh. ne'ar appeard yet but in pious formes. 184 

L6,2 these snakes egges shathe^ hatcht in Faerie lande, 

^Wheare none (as yet) dares her designes withstand.^ 

Ah, father, mother (parentis deerest deere), 

I, your poore^ daughter, may her witchcraft feare : 188 

^her night croes, battes, howles, ravens, cattes, todes, 

snakes,^ 
so fright ^mee, thaf my iieshe and sinewes quakes, 
^vah, but ift^ bee your fortunes to goe hence, 191 

leave mee some suer^ gard for my weake^^ defense ! 
(f.8b.) ^ifor shee this witch is, w/^^'ch with temptinge weele 

wiio has ensnared hath suard my brother Algarsif e by th' eele, 
gaisie. ^^ snake-wise stuuge him : ah,^^ I feare to death." 

Tho Canac wept and sobbd, quite out of breath, 196 
^^praienge them sweetlie, thoughe great weare his fault, 
^^ her sitite^^ to Weigh hls wcakcnes, weaker then th' assault,^^ 

Pray forgive and sigue Ms pardon with their lovinge hand : 199 

'^^ which donn, shee'P^ call him home to Faerie Lande. 

^5 a ittst denian^ " No " (sworc stemo Ethclta^*^), *'that raskall boye 

Queen Ethelta inpii > ^^ i • j 

swears, that as shall icele hec wrotc^' nis owne, not our annoye. 

wiffuiiy? ^'""^ ^^Yea, thoughe 1^ hee ioine him to^^ our enimies, 

20 and purchas make of their iniquities,^^ 204 

his reason knewe^i his parentis trewe and iuste; 
22 Ms reason knewe^^ theire foes false and ^^iniuste, 
his will was choice, his choise was reasons will;23 

1—1 jour virtuous normes ^ ^^„,^ i^ j^gji^ 3 gj^^gg ji^th 
4—4 wheare none yet her designes cares to withstand. ^ sole 
6—6 whose nightcroes, Owles, battes, quappers, catt^s, and snakes 
7—7 as all s~^ then yf yt ^ certaine ^^ ovi. in Ash. 
11—11 for tHis thattempting^ witch is, with her weele, 
hath snaerd Algarsif^ my poore brothers heele, 
or stung^ him by some snake 
12—12 them yernelie praienge, though his fault wear^ greats, 
to waigh, that weakenes aunswers his defeats, 
13-13 Qj)^^^ in Ash. 1*— 1* that shee mote i^-^^ om. in Ash, 
16 Etheelta stern, i^ wrought i^-is although i9 with 

20—20 and slyly swallowe theire iniquities, ^i yet knewe 
22—12 ti^e same reasn wist 
23—23 vniust, choise was his will, will was his reasn also, 



Pt. IV.] Canace pleads again for AJcjarsife. 39 

and that, the traiter ^conscientlie shall feele,^ 208 she'ii not forgive 

in whose fowle soule, as thear's no expiation, 
so, twixt vs 2 three, n'is^ reconciliation." 

^Teers after teers^ ran downe Canacies eyes, Canace weeps, 

sithe in those termes shee Barbara discries, 212 

^ great argument, so vniuersal that 
adrnittes not one exception (hard estate).* 
" Yet, noblist mother" (^qnod this humble mayd),^ 
*' beare with your child, whoe ofte hathe heard it 
sayd, 216 

that though e a^ father bee a lovinge"^ frend, 
Yet, naturalie, mothers are more kind, 
^tis to your love, Deere Dame, that I appeale : and appeals to her 

motlier's-love for 

Love ^ brought you and my ffather SO to deale, 220 iierson. 
as wee your childrenn are : whome, if yee^ kill, 
1^ nature maye sweare love is oreruld by will." 

"Gearl" (quoth the queene), ^' I note my selfe 
mistake ;^^ 
I love my sonn while hee dothe vs partake; 224 Queen Etheita 

but hee is gonn. !N"ow love I ^^ iustice better \ forgive Aigarsife. 

my ^2 iustice shall my love paye, ^^trew loves debter,!^ 
my iustice is my selfe, and I am it, 
^^w/i^'ch iustice cann no partial love adniitt .-i* 228 

nor will I separate mee to annother,^^ 
no, thoughe^^ I weare tenn thowsand times his mother." 

^"^Then sobbd the seelie-meeke-deiected maydj^"^ 
" so bee it, sacred mother, as you^^ sayd. 232 

graunt yet,^^ that, as vnheard I begg for him, 

1—^ feelingelie shall kno 2—2 jg ^^ 3—3 ^\^q flood^s of teeres 
*— 4 ann argument so general ymade 

as cann give no exception for evade. 
^— ^ said this woefull maid, ^ the "^ faithfull 
8—^ it is, Deere Dame, t' your love that I appeale, w/iich ^ you 
10—10 nature maie plead, love gives place to selfe will. 

" Gearl, gearl," said shee, " I n'ote my selfo misstake," 

11 I love 12 vv7e,ich i^—vd ^s sinnes debter : 

14—14 'vv/iich can no partial indulgence admitt, i» to him (annother) 

1^ although 17—17 then quoth this humhlie meeke-deiected maid, 

18 yee lu Yet graunt 



40 Canace influences her Father, 8j' not Q. Ethel. [Pt. IV. 



Can ace entreats 
that she may die 
with Algarsife. 



Q, Ethelta leaves 
her. 



I too bee made^ partaker of his synn, 

and die his death : Let me not see the daye 

2 that our twoe loves shall ^ parted bee a tway : 236 

^his liefe, my death may not concomitate; 

0, let vs bothe die, or bothe live one fate ! 

wee bee twoe^ graffe^, twoe blossoms of one stocks, 

let one sharpe pruninge knife ^addresse our blocks;* 

my grace cannot his disgrace overlive : 241 

I will die with thee, my^ owne Algarsiue." 

^The queene woold heere no more, but strooke vp 
stairs, 

Leavinge sad Canac sprent with teers and praiers ; 244 
and as the queene rose cryd, " Good Ladie mother,^ 
bee good t' Algarsife, "^my owne*^ eldest brother ! " 
antipathies Hccre fell a notable antipathie 

twixt ffathers and the mothers propertie : 248 

her nature (on iust cause) wox iustelie fell ; 
his nature (on trewe^ cause) Love did impel! 
i^but all this while Cambuscan inwardlie 
drancke vp Canacies teeres, hyd in his eye : 252 

courage with truith, pittye with iustice, bothe 
fought hard^^ in him, to salve his sonns vntrothe. 
But all was for his lovelie Daughters sake. 
Yet made no showe, ^^no, thoughe^^ his hart did 
ake, 256 

but volvd, revolvd, in diepe perplexitie, 

1 I also bee ^—^ whearein our twoe loves 

3—3 ■J3ut lett his death m}^ lief<? concomitate 

that both die one, or both survive to one fate : 
wee twoe are 

4—* the pollard<?5 knocks ^ mine 

^—^ Nathles the Queene n'oold heer<?, but strake vp staires, 

Canacee left in teeres, and bootelesse praiers. 

out crieng^ lowd, oft said, " Good Ladie mother/' 

7—7 mine ® ow. in Ash. ^ iust 

10—10 ^T^^ 0^11 ^]ni3s while the roial Cambuscan 

dranoke vp Canacees teeres, as fast as rann 1 
his courage, pittie, love, iustice and troth, 
strivings? 

11—11 although 



K. Cambuscan, 
for Canace's sak( 



tries to forgive 
Algarsife. 



Pt. IV.] The Bridle of the Horse of Brass. 41 

^how to fitt love, and iustice remedie. 258 

Oh, noblest Love (active), the haies bee thine, 
w7^^ch deignst annothers fanltes say, " they bee mine." 

Boreas, by this, had^ swept the firmament, The sun shines. 

2 and roUd vp wett clovrdes, backe to seaward sent ; 
Phebus, discurtaininge his murninge face, 
shewd his longe absence dnlld the worldes solace. 264 

" Come, Canac " (quoth Cambuscan), " goe with mee^ ^they naeye 
to yond faire towr." Shee run?is^ as quick as bee. cambuscan and 

Wheare, downs hee raught^ the bridle, w7^^ch^ his briSr^^^^'^ 

frend, 
kinge Thotobon of Araboe and Ind, 268 

had sent him, with a swoord and horse of brasse, of the Horse of 

''w/w'ch trye hee will"^ in this disastrous case, 
^plaine was the bridle, of well tand leather hunger, 
buckled, to lett longe, short, not o're or vnder ; 272 
the bitt, a canon bytt, of won stufF,^ with a canon bit 

able to tame^ the wildest colt in^^ proff; 
howbeet so pleasaunt, after some while ^^ worne, 275 
as with glad cheere ^^and ease mote well bee borne ; 
W7i?'ch held the curb, or water chaine so nye, and a curb chain, 

as coold checke stumblinge, and teach remedye.^^ 
from whence ^^they ventred^^ to the mantled greene, (f.9) 

1—1 to fitt his love to iustice remedie. 

O noblest love ! the coronal bee thine, 
that deignest saie annothers f aultes are mine, 
by this had Boreas 
2—2 and rolld vp Zephirs wett clowd^s t' seaward sent, 
and Sol disvelopinge his bashfull face, 
provd, without him, the world hath no solace. 
Then said Cambuscan, " Canace goe with mee " 
2—^ om. in Ash. * rann ^ reachd ^ ^j^^^ 
''— '^ thease now to trie 
8-^ Yt being<5 plaine, of well dressd leather hungers, 
w/^ich long^, or short, did not lett ore, or vnder, 
the canon bitt beinga of surest stuff 

^ breake ^^ by ii times 
12—12 mote without paine bee born, 
whose water chaine, or curbe, was fixt so nie 
as oheckd all stumblinge, and causd remedie. 
13—13 this paire walkd 



As Cambuscan 
and Cauace walk 
amid daisies 



and violets, 



the Brazen Horse 
comes thro' the 



42 The Horse of Brass comes at Cambuscans call. [Pt. IV, 

wheare Phoebus ^woold liave Canac^ gladder seene, 
out of jber murninge weedes : but^ murners lawes 281 
^affoorde no mirth ^ duringe the murninge cause. 

^They had not oftenn^ measured the plaine 
^(powncd with white deisies, died with fiowrs in graine,^ 
*^checkred with primrose, dyed w^'th cowshps mild, 285 
strewd with blewe violete.9, amilinge the feild) f 
"^but as theire eies the lantskipps vie we weare fetchinge, 
iust with th' orisons furthest clowdes out stretchinge,'^ 
behold, amidd^ the aier, the brazen horse 289 

came in his mayne carryer, of sourse deorse, 
^rougher then l^eptunes wildcolt-fominge waves, 
when all the sandes and sownd<?s with frothe hee 
laves :9 292 

that wonder was to see him sore so hye, 
not havinge Pegasus his winges to flye ; 
i^as wondrous to expect ^^ his then repaire, 
1^ havinge so longe a time binn weft and straier.^^ 296 
the reason was Cambuscans privie call 
(secretlie^^ whispred to th' etherial), 
had first, as swift as thought, flown to the stead, 
w7^^ch heard, hee^^ com??^s, the world mote not forbead. 
i^Cambuscan tho, so rounded in his eare,^* 301 

as still hee standes,^^ not offringe muche^^ to steare; 
like as of old, when wise Pithagoras 
sawe a wild oxe devoure ^^the corne or grasse, 304 

gann^*^ virtuous wordes so round into his eare, 



at Cambuscan's 
secret call, 



and stands still 
before them. 



1-1 would Canace have ^ could ^—^ graunt anie mirth, 
4—4 vVheare long*? they had not 
5-5 (with deisies violet-9S powncd, and flowres in graiue) ^-^ oin. in Ash. 

7-7 but as theire eies farr lantskipp kennes weare fetching*?, 
Lo, with thorizont6^s farthest point out stretchings, 
s vp in 
9-9 more rough, then Neptunes fominge wildcolt taves, 

when all the sowndss, sandes^ strand/95, with froth belaves ; 

10—10 ag wonderfull to see 

11—11 go longs time havings binn a weft and straier ^'-^ in secret 

1^ soone i*-i* Whoe comd, Cambuscan rownded so his ears i^ stood 

i<^ once 17—17 mens corn, and grasss, did 



Pt. IV.] Cambuscan and Canace mount the Horse, 43 

^as foortliwith gann the lowlie beast forbeare, 

yea, wox tame, and went^ vp and down the streate, 

nor once woold eate, but what men gave^ to eate ; 308 

so stoode this brasen horse as still as btone, 

till kinge Cambuscan gann^ the briddl done, Cambuscan 

, . , 1 1 « -, 1 T 1 i 11 1 K mounts the Horse 

and^ clombe ms backe, as light as bucke "or doe ;^ of Brass; 

but then^ the horse gann startel, tripp,^ and goe, 312 
curved, carrier, bound, rear, rebound, and daunce, 
obayenge yet^ the bridelks observaunce. 
Tho bode^ hee Canac gett vp him behind. 

i^shee did so, fearinge nought hee t' her assignd, 316 
so confident of him was Canace, canace gets up 

behind him, 

as shee durst walke with him vppon the sea. 

Whome, vp and setled, bides sitt close and fast, 
holdinge by him, and^^ bee of nought agast. 320 

Meane while the kinge said, " hollo, hollo, boye,*' 
shee wondrous gladd to feele the stead obaye. 

'^But now, my gearle," Cambuscan said to her, and is bidden to 

look to herself. 

" looke to thy selfe : the rodd then^^ made him 
sterr, 324 

the kinge him bearinge ^^faire & streight^^ i^ seate, 
for better knight no age did ear begeate, 
^^wheather it^^ weare on horsebacke or on foote, 
^^hee vsd to putt his horse and him selfe toot. 328 

first, easelie trottes, endlonge, all the greene, 
lif tinge his pasternes ^^ (goodlie to bee seene) , The horse trots, 

lifting his pas- 

with suche a countenance as gave to knowe, terns high. 

the kinge had to commaund the beast to bo we ; 332 

1—1 as foorthwith lowlie causd the beast forbeare. 
and wox tame, wending^ 
2 gave him ^ did ^ then ^ Koe, ^ tho '^ runn 
8 Yet still obaied ^ Tho willd 
10—10 g^-iee nothings? fearing<9, did as hee assignd, 
then vp, and setled, bides her to sitt fast, 
and by him holdinge, 
11 tho 1'^— 12 strait, and faire in seate, 13— 13 ^hoe wheather 
14—14 gtiii vsd to putt him selfe, and his horse toot, 
and first trottes endlonge easelie the greene, 
his pasternes liftinge 



44 The Performances of the Horse of Brass, [Pt. IV. 



The Brazen Hors 
gallops, stops, 



does a Lover's 
knot. 



trots forward, 

then tail back- 
wards. 



prances front and 
rear. 



and theji bolts up 
to the sky. 



then gallops^ out, then makes^ a soddaine stopp, 

then fortie foote into the ringe hee lopp. 

the people howtinge,^ ^* oh, most gallant horse." 

^for whiel hee had not tried on them his force, 336 

and* theare in mayne carrier, he trode th'essaye 

^that simbolizeth trew loves rundelaye :^ 

^whence, crossewise, viers twoe rounder, like eighths hi 

figure, 
trew lovers simbole gemelized one creature. 340 

When hee had donn all smooth tricked on the ground, 
hee tooke the paralel, neighbringe the round, 
wheare in hee trotter, vnto the pathes farr ende, 
but theare, on thinder heeles, turnes to re wend : 344 
thence retrottes tailewise backwardes, whence he cam 
to charge foreright, as dothe a busshinge ram.^ 

Thus havinge founde his horse at plaine worke readye, 
■^hee warnd Canac, aye to sitt fast and steadye. 348 
tho, with the rodd and spurr, th'orse rose aloft^?,^ 
twentie curveddes before, behind as ofte, 
that never horse was known ^ comm off so hye, 
^w/wch scene, "God save Canac!" all people out 
crye.^ 352 

" Harcke '' (quoth ^^ the kinge), '^ these praie for thee, 
w^'th cries, 
i^Yet bin thy most malitious enimies." 
tho^^ (with a trice), Cambuscan trilld the Jyn 
that in his horses ear movd with a pinn, 356 

and whispred^^ secretlie, a word or twaine : 
^^th'orse boltes vp right in th'aier, and left the mayne. ^^ 



1 gallopd 2 made ^ out crienge 

4—4 hee havings yet not bent on them his force, but 

5—5 w//ich sj^mboUzeth Loves own rundelaie ^— ^ 8 lines om. in Ash 

^—"^ againe hee warnd Canace to sete her steadie, 

then with the rodd and spurr, hee rose aloft, 

8 seene ^—^ wheareat, " God save them both ! " the peopl out crie. 

1^ said 11—11 Yet are thine, nay theire own most enimies. then 

12 whispringe 

13—13 ^jje horse vp boltt^s in th'aier bove plaine, and mayne ; 



Pt. IV.] The Horse of Brass flies out of siglit. 45 

2 The people, it seeinge, soone awaye rann all, 359 "^vmtahie^eo'^u}- 
fearinfjce the beast woold on their header down fall.^ 'J^^^e Horse of 

^ Brass bears Cam- 

3 but soone the stead sord highe and out of sight, (f.ob.) 

buscan and Canace 

leavinge them weepinge, in a mazefull plight. out of sight. 

some sighd for their good kinge,^ some for his daughter ; 

^others wisshd they mote ride awaye soone after.* 364 

some wondred how Canac (so towzd and tosst) 

coold keepe her seate, and sitt her horse so fast. 

some said, " If they had suche ann horse,^ be bould 367 The people think 

they're lost, 

^to heavn with ease, when so them liste, they would. "^ 

some fell to counsell, "Whoe shoold be their kinge]'* and wonder who'ii 

be the new Khig. 

^others said, "none,^ but Ethelta the Queene. 
^some dreamd of chaunge, some of succession prate, 
others weare sicke, till they had taxt the state. ^ 372 
^some thought it best to chouse annother kinge ; 
others thought twoe too muche, wheare one did wringe. 
some mockd at somme, for state-mongers absurd, 
till scarce one of them all had one wise word.^ 376 

]N"ow, when the kinge had brought vnder her eye The Brazen Horse 

all regions, ^^ nations, kingdoms,^^ farr and nye,^^ 
hee^2 bore vp, till her head was in the sonn ; the sun, 

1—1 om. in Ash, 2—2 ^^^^^ ^^ j^gj^^^ 
3—3 and soerd so hie as bove the peoples sight; 

soone gladded them, for chaung<? is theire delight : 

as soone some sighd theire kinge, 

4—* and others wishd that the)^ mote thence ride after ^ one 

6—^ they would to heavn with ease rid<^, yea, they would. 

''— '^ som woold have none, 

s— ^ som alteration ! some succession prate ! 

and not one but was skilld to tax the state ; 
9—9 om. in Ash. and the following inserted: — 

them leavings? theare to all posteritie, 
the type of ignorance and inconstancie. 
10—10 climates, nations, 
11 the following lines inserted here : — 

thence bore vp mongst the spheares of musickes tones, 
whence are derived all harmonious sones, 
theare foes thideal formes, configurings 
all our sweet flowres, trees, fruites, dilled for the spring^?, 
shed from Elisium, thearth to bewtifie, 
till faded home againe vnseene vp stie. 
12 thence 



46 Canace is shown all thafs done in the World, [Pt. IV. 



then to the Moon ; 



then homewards. 



Cambuscan 
teaclies Canace 



how to guide the 
Horse of Brass. 
He shows her all 
that goes on in 
the World. 



They reach home 
again. 



Their folk are 
glad. 



384 



388 



whence^ (with a trice) her feete weare in.^ the 
moone \^ 380 

^thence, downehill, softlie homewarde^ bore againe/ 
and in his daughters handes^ hee placd^ the raigne, 
"teachings and helpinge how to rule his steade/ 
by a discreete hand, borne yppon his head ; 
^for twas his purpose,^ glorie, ioye, and glee 
that shee should ride ^his horse as well as hee.^ 
and theare belowe hee shewd her all that^^^ donn, 
publicke, and ^^privatelie, vnder the sonn;^^ 
in states, courtes, counselled, benches, consistories, 
schooles, vniuersities, celle.9, oratories, 
i^faires, marketer, burses, ^^ shopps, header, hartes, 

handed too, 
in closeted, studies, chambers, ^^wheare men doe ^^ 392 
all policies of them, wA^'ch^^ factitate 
all stratagems of them who^^ machinate, 
^^a wondrous thinge to see, w/n'ch I note tell,^^ 
vnlesse Canacies glasse stoode^^ centinell. 396 

But when the people ^^him cominge home discried, 
capps, cries, and friskalW, to the welkin hyed. 
]^aie, when they sawe Canac comm well againe, 399 
no ground, no reason, mote theire tonges containe,^^ 



1 thence ^ on 

Asli, inserts here : — 

wheare marketh thaereal spirik^^ of colord hiewe, 
most chaungeable starres Infinite of viewe. 
and in her glasse, white soles ascending/?, spied 
the naiTowe waie to theirs Lord glorified, 
and all blacks misscreant^6', deiect, confind 
to infernal Jailers, and to Darknes chaind. 
"t-* thence homeward softlie down hill bore againe, ^ hand ^ putt 
7—7 her gracing6^, teaching*?, helpinge t'rule his stead, 
8—8 his purpose beings ^— ^ and rule his horse as hee ^^ thinges 
11—11 private vnderneath the moon, i^— 12 faires, burses, markettes, 

13-13 ^vhat they doe, I'l that i^ that 

16-16 too wondrous thinges to see, w/iioh none male tell i^ stand 
18—18 sawe him wellcom home 

theire cappes, knees, friskalks, wise cries, vp weare thrown, 
so when they fownd Canacee comd againe, 
they weare of her, more then afore, full faine, 



Pt. IV.] Canace rides and guides the Horse of Brass. 47 

^for they w7^^ch late woold have annother kinge, Cambuscan's sub- 

jects 
now, none but hee, theire common songe dothe singe : 

now, for Canacies Love they woold runn madd, 

though of Algarsifs revolt they weare gladd. 404 

some said, " 6, whoe noold ioye in suche -a kinge 1 praise lum. 

Love, honor, and obaie all his offspring^ *? ^ 

so trew, iust, valient, ^wise, meeke,'^ debonaire ! 

good god^ continewe them ! '^ was all theire praier:^ 408 

^yet these binn th'arpeies of the droopinge time, swrty folk they 

that all at nouum sette.9, on fyve or nyne.^ 

By this the kinge came prawn cinge o're y^^ plaine, ^aredyeiwrse 

' & Tidevfi 

^Canac, his daughter, holdinge well the raigne, 412 canace guides tiie 

, ,T T , . , . i« i • ji 1 -n Brazen Horse over 

whome theare nee made right perrect m the skillet 

of ridinge goiles, plaines, ruffetes, dales, and hills, mu and dale, 

and to Qomnn off ^ and on, turne and returue, 

and^ In him anie wheare, shee^^ listo soiorne. 416 

^^ so taught her how to trill the pinn in th'eare, and turns the pin 

in bis ear. 

w/iich th' horse, at wilks quicke call, heard anie wheare, 

all w/^zch the people sawe, with mickle ioye, 

so neere the court gates nimblie lighted they, 420 They alight at the 

Court gates, 

and drewe the bitt, w/^?'ch in thighe towr they layd, and unbndie the 

„ , . , p n 1 1 Horse. 

till, commge foorthe, it bee oi all obayd; 

Tlie kinge gonn home ; ^^ theare stoode the brazen 
horse, 

^~i 6 lines om. in Ash. ^~^ loving<9 ^ as god 
* Ash. here inserts : — 

whome no quill male define, but at madd passion, 
vppon own self^ will^s makings strongs invasion, 
^-^ that all at novum sett^^s on fyve, or nine, 

(windds weathercock<?) at everie changing*? time. 
6—^ om. i7i Ash. '' on the 

^—^ Canacee holding/? well for him the raigne, 
as hee had made her perfect in his skill 
of ridinge ruffette^, goiles, bogg6'5, dale, and hill, and off to comm 

9 to 10 hee 

11—11 besid<?s, her taught the pinn to trill in th'eare, 
wheareby hee heard her willes call anie wheare. 

all w7wch the peoples noveltie delighted, 
full glad to see them at the Gouft alighted, 
the bitt, off drawn, was in the towr vp laid, 
as earst foorth cominge, to bee in all obaid. but the kinge gonn 



48 



The Sun goes. 



The Bat flies. 

"Good 



Folk say, 
night ! " 



The Vulgar want 
War, 



Canace, Peace. 



Netos comes of Algarsifes Revolt TPt. V. 

not to bee movd by all tlie peoples force, 424 

ino, thougbe they gazd & shovd, b'yond all decision, 
calles gladlie, what they knewe not, superstition. 

Tho titan pursd vp all bis somms of coyne 
emploid at vsurie, in bancke, or moyne,^ 428 

and lockd bis golden rayes^ in thazure cbeste, 
^ con void by torcbe and candel light to weste,* 
^dismissinge eglet scyntills on the flowres, 
wT^zch causd the gardins blusshe of silver showres.^ 432 
the leathern batt, shades hawnter, lothinge light, 
^strooke in : all takinge leave to bidd good night.^ 

Qanto quinto. 

The vulgar much desire th"^ warr; 

Algarsife it apologize the ; 
Cambuscan callethe^ Akafir ; 

^Canac th'armie to love advisethe.^ 



(f. 10) 
Before dawn a 
Post gallops up, 



Before the vi^eepinge gearles, Pleiades, 

had leapt th^ orison, to ^^the brinishe seas, 

a post gallopinge, whoe by starr light rann,^^ 

knockd at court gates ; ^^the porter quicklie camm,^"^ 4 

and speedinge vp the packett to the kinge, 

What is his news ? for newes was all the peoples ^^ questioninge, 

i^whoe, since the late rebellious practisinge, 

made of Algarsife, but tantologinge ^^^ 8 

I'^for none but descanteth vppon his action, 

w/^zch, at theire litle ears, enlargeth faction,!^ 

1—1 though heavd, sbeavd, gazd, beyond their witt^s decision, 
did thearefore wiselie call yt superstition : 
till Titan from them all incalld his coyne, 
Vnworthie to bee lent them longer time, 

2 om. in Ash. ^ goldie lockes 

^— * wheare those him. vnderstanden least hee blesst : ^— ^ om. in Ash. 

6—6 in strooke, to bid his like blind gwid(55 good night. 

^ enquire for ^ calk^s in ^— ^ Canace to Love the armie feirce adviseth. 

10—10 (Jown the brinie seaes an earlie Post by starrlight havings rumi, 

11—11 goone is the Porter com, ^^ Courtiers 13--13 ^,^^^^ ^^ Ash. 

14—14 wheare none but descanted Algarsifes action, 

to lett in at theirs busie eares his faction. 



PL v.] The Officers opinions about the Revolt, '49 

theventes wlieareof ^not one but dares divine, 

and officers vnto tlie campe assigne, 12 officers begin to 

talk : 

and looke what newes the post hathe not to tell,^ 

they dare supplie, and to ^the world ^ re veil, 

^vntill so many truithes binn out at once 

as hathe our Ladie new begotten sonnes.^ 16 

^"^N'ow, now," vauntes one,^ "packes idlnes awaye, 

^and now tall men who lacke shall lacke no pay,^ we shaii get pay 

now, 

^but leave base seekinge dinners, at each table, 

w/i^ch, to vs soldiers, writes dishonorable ; 20 

ne wayt at court, for court smoke, elles in vaine, 

without our salaries, a yeere or twaine ; . 

ne care to gage Jackes leathern panche by oures, 

with lookinge bigg on all that on vs lowres ] 24 

ne princke our outsides fasshion with neV7 suites, and have money 

while purses insides pennilesse disputes."^ 

"^^ N'aye, now the world will mende, so wee may winn,^ 

elles, goe the DivF withall," quoth Tomallin. 28 

^for so the vulgar rable prophecie, 

as if theire warrs woold all folkes wantes supplye,^ 

^whearefore, thVnrulie wisshe for hopefull warrs, They wish for 

till feelingelie they bringe home curelesse skarrs ;^ 32 

1^ and so they ianglen, wheare they herd togeather,^^ 

opinions, for opinions, chouse yee wheather, 

^^that never are vnfurnishd of this fasshion,^! 

to hold with either par tie contestation. 36 

1—1 allreadie they Divine, and how to doe all readie \Yaies assigne, 

for looke what Postes newes theareof could not tell, 
2-2 theire mates ^-3 g^j^^ i^ ^^/^ 4-4 one vaunting^ now 

^— ^ because tall men that lack^ shall have theirs paie, 
6-" 8 lines om. in Ash. ^-7 w/wch will amend the world, so they male win 
8—8 fo^. g^iii ^]-,g Vulgar so deign prophecie 
as yf theirs? warr could right all is awrie, 
^— ^ om. in Ash. and tlie following lines inserted, : — 
themselves euabling*? still so good deservers, 
as faine woold warr should bee theire hungrie kervers, 
presuming^ violence? bringes best to pass, 
till warres disaster alter all the case, 
10—10 wheareof they iangle, as they meete togeather, 
11-11 never vnfurnishd of this. theirs old fashion, 
LANE. 33 



50 Camhuscan announces Algarsifes Bevolt [Pt. V. 



1 Algarsifes 
rebellion.^ 
Cambuscan tells 
tlie Queen of tlieir 
Sou'^ rebellion, 

and thut Fregiley 
&c<. have joind in 
it. 



Algarsife's folk 
will fight. 



hoping to get from 
him Cambuscan' s 
lands. 



The 2 packett opened, and the letter seene, 
the kinge impartes his^ newes ynto the'* queene, 
^how that, besides, theire wicked sonn's gonn out, 
" the man at Fregiley bears all the rowt,^ 40 

^plaies Captaine General of all disorders, 
and calles vnto his partie all the borders, 
specialie those hee holdes to him most nye, 
whoe gainste vs have donn greatest villany, 44 

buildinge most saftie vppon theire defense, 
who have to aunswer for the like offense. 
6, but o're them beares the most ielleous eye, 
whoe standes not vnto vs, most contrarie. 48 

'Now wheare the Prince praetendes his iuste de- 
fense, 
his folke will challenge armes of false offense, 
sithe, sooner do the a false traith blear e their eies 
as they woold (by suspition) seeme most wise ; 52 

yet gronndinge all theire chiefest confidence 
on the possessd greatnes of theire owne prince, 
whence anglers, (whoe woold rise by emulation) 
and of theire service publishe demonstration; 56 

fightes, railes, skolde^, writes against vs all they 

may, 
their syde to bolden, our right to dissmaye ; 
theareby t'imbarcke them in the peoples hart, 
which still consisteth of theire maior part ; 60 

and, for suche sharkinge paines, lookes at his handes 
to reape (besides his grace) our farmes and landes ; 
concludinge on this ground66' securitie 
falselie gott, nis kept, but by falsitie.^ 64 

^— 1 01)1. in Ash. ^ W/wch ^ the * his 
-^ how that Algarsif hath in Fregiley 

not onlie mad^ him head, to bear<? all swaie, 

but hath divulgd a faire Apologie, 

his false truith, with pretense to iustefie ; 

ambition teachings this of old and newe, 

not once to claim e as false, but iust and trewe. 
6—6 24 lines (mi. in Ash. 



Pt. v.] Algarsife^s Jmtijicatioii of his Revolt, 5 1 

2" Amongst his other stratagems well known, ^apoiogiefor 

hee ann apologie abrode hathe strowen, Aigarsife pretends 

,,,,,, ,, -1,1 1- that he takes up 

that, to the world, propoundes the causes whie arms to secure his 

hee's forced by armes to gard his Libertie, • 68 ' ^^ "^^ 

and vauntes hee note bee otherwise secure, 

vnlesse in Fregiiej hee him immure ; 

besides, that I, his father, without right, 

have 2 off red all my kingdom to that knight, 72 andhisWrthright, 

wJiich^ shall Canacy winn, at^ Serra towne, which cambuscan 

/. cc i\ 1 1 J.1 1^x1 « has promist to the 

SO (m eiiect) shee bears thence^ the renowne :^ winner of Canace. 

^* But I, that am his eldest and first borne,'' 

shall have the nesteltrett sett mee beforne,^ 76 

^so shoold I rest, at her choice and discretion, 

and live enthralld at her meere manumission.^ 

Then, whearfore, serves the lawe of blood or^^ nations^ 

if theldest birth, of ^^ natures propagations, 80 

shoold 12 a^ a ffathers pleasure, or displeasure, 

'13 suffer of dewe inheritance disseasure 1 ^^ 

and, pray, what comfort ist to live in feare 

of him, or her, that plotter ^^ to bee ons heirel 84 

by reason, thearf ore, and meere natures lesson, (f. lo b.) 

I keepe in Fregiley my^^ owne possession, Fregiiey belongs 

hopingei^ the world will so interpret it heburhoidsitr 

1—1 om. in As7i. 
2—2 fQj. whome thus readeth his apologie, 
his reasons, interest, and causes whie, vz. 
' I, prince Aigarsife, doe protest heerebj^, 
mee forcd to armes, to gard my libertie, . 
wMch, otherwise, could not mee keepe secure, 
then that in Fregiiey I mee immure ; 
because my fathers purpose, without right, hath 
^ that 4 in ^ hence 
^ Ash. inserts here : — 

renown, my point of fame, will, soveraigntie, 
most deer<? in absolute supremacie, 
to doe what list mee arbitrarelie, 
without rule, checks, aceompt, stield highest hie : 
7—'' elks I, whoe am his first, and eldest born, ^ aforn, 
^—^ and so live at her choise, will, rule, discretion, 
enthralld, yf resting^ on her manumission. 
^^ in 11 by ^^ shall is— is endewr<5 of prime inheritance disseasure ? 
1* stand^s i^ mine i*^ in hope 

E 2 



52 



Queen Ethel comforts King Cambiiscan, [Pt. V. 



Algarsife will care 
for liis friends. 



4 aunswer to y« 
apologie.'^ 
Queen Ethel 



tells Cambuscan 



^as fyttinge reasons riglit,^ and a good witt : 88 

^toucMnge my frendes,^ j doubt not to bee able, 

to pleasure tlieni, as they stand pleasurable. Algarsife.'" ^ 

The Queene, a princesse of that maiestie, 
and resolution gainst^ extremitie, 92 

^as all the world not suche annother had, 
heard out, with courage, bothe the good and badd,^ 
"^and, (thoughe a woman) yet none tooke this from 

her, 
shee did abound in all mascuHne honor.''' 96 

^ffirst to her deerest husband thus bespake,^ 
'*most lovinge, ^valient, and heroicke make,^ 
this rule of nature, which to mee^^ is dewe 
(if I bee not deceavd), extender to you, 100 

that in her bookes of love I never read, 
to bringe my cradle on my proper head : 
w/n'ch natural love hathe a^^ love of owne 



1—1 as best fittes natures lore, ^—^ now touching^ frenck.s ! 

2 Aah. here mserts : — 

" To back^ w/wch plott, him hold^s to those most nye, 
w7wch gainst vs have donn the most Villanie, 
hee being<3 most secm'd on theirs defense, 
whoe have to aunswer for their<3 like offense, 
but those, whoe to him stand less contrarie 
hee harder beares, and hold^s in ielowsie. 
now wheare false hee pretend^s a iust defense ; 
the people arme them, in the selfe same sense, 
for falsed truith doth sooner bleare theirs eies, 
as, by suspicion, they woold seeme more wise. 
Yet doe but ground theire chief est confidence, 
on the possessd greatnes of theire own prince : 
whose anglers, thriving^, by th' art emulation, 
w/iich (makings of theire service demonstration) 
deigns at vs raile, fight, strive, in all they maie, 
to gull the peopl, our right still to denaie, 
and, for such cheating^ paines, look/9 at his hand^s 
to bee invested in our place, farmes, landi?,?, 
concluding*? on this ground of policie. 
gott falselie, falser keepes as trewe, perdij." 
^—'^ am. in Ash. ^ in 
^— ^ as all the wide world had not such annother, 
heard all the best and wurst ; then as a mother, 

7—7 .otn. in Ash. ^—^ but first vnto her husband and thus bespake, 



^—9 and mj trewe, iust — valient make, 



10 all 



this 



Pt. v.] Queen Ethel denounces her son Algarsife, 53 

^ that binder b'owne lawe all that of her are grown^ binds children 

to obey their 

to filial dutie, W/izch (of natures kind) 105 Parents. 

^creepes out at birth, concrete, into one mind, 

wheareby ites^ younger hath t'orerule ites^ elder, 

as reason knowes, wheare reason is the welder. 108 

^ISTow wheare my birthe dares reasonlesse elate, 

as sensual vsurpers them suffiate,^ 

it is ^ a canon in our^ lawe of reason, 

suche insolentes bin^ guiltie of highe treason. 112 Aigarsite is guiity 

of High Treason. 

and by that ^canon all wAtch goe that gate, 

bin well pronounced, natures degenerate ; 

and those whoe iustifie suche false escapes,"^ 

perseverance swears to bee our reprobates. 116 

for, if in truith and iustice him wee gott, 

and hee doe^ neither, is hee ours or nof? 

But heere I find it trewe (as Canac sayd), 

how giadlie hee Videriaes plotter ^ obayd, 120 

10 in havinge from her hellishe pollecie He has foUowd 

the Witch Vide- 

suckd state praetenses for his monarchie : reu's heiiisii 

wheareto^o the boy pretendes wee wrongd his right : 
L6, iifalse-truith is^^ his popular anglinge slight. 124 
i^w/^^'ch false truith, and false iustice, weighes ye 

sleightes, 
w^^ch falsaries traduce, t'annoint their baytes, 
w/i^ch, on stoln greatnes, plottf?^^ to coyne it so, 
as no inferior dares ^^ inquire to kno. 128 

1—1 that by my own lawe bind(?6* all of her ygrown, 
2—^ at birth concreat*?, out creepes into one mind, by wZ^ich the ^ the 
*~* then wheare my sonn doth reasonles elate, 
vsurpinge sensivelie, and him sufflate 
^—^ our canon by the ^ scape 
7— '^ order, everie such subnate, pronouncd is natures vile degenerate. 
Whence those whoe iustefie their<3 false elates, 
s keepe '^ trickes 
10—10 j^ sucking^ from her virsut policie 

pretense, for duplicated monarchie. whearein 
ii-n falsed truith's 
12—12 foi- with such false truith and vniustizd sleightcs, '^ 
vile falsaries in faction noint theirs baites, 
to catch stoln greatnes, w/tich they coyne out so, as fcwe inferiors dare 



54 Qfieen Ethel exposes Algarsife s falsities, [Pt. V. 

The Queen, iBut HOW hee pleader, forsooth, hee's forcd^ to armes, 

Algarsife's ^ 

mother, Lo, heere are more of false Yideriaes ch armes ! 

sir, 2 whie % forsoothe, for pocket libertie ; 
^but wheare? in mutinous false F?-egiley. 132 

and^ whome woold bee preclude, or* stripp beerebye % 
ev'n her wboe, for bis sake, dotbe all daye dye, 
^evn poore Canac, (bis sister) whose wett eyes,^ 
wrunge handes, kind hart, bead careful],*^ pitteous cries, 
knockes^ night and day at our ears in his favor ; 137 
yet this vile viper killes her for her labor, 
and whie*? forsoothe, ^shees but the^ nesteltrett, 
^and hee'l be^ iudge whome wee shall i*^ foremost sett. 

ridicules his claim 6, hee's first bomo ; he thearefore will inheritt, 141 

to the Kingdom, 

asfivstborn. ^^so vauutes, lawe of blood dothe on him conferr it. 

and bee's ^1 first male, so theritage is his, 
first com??^, first servd, is^^ xvcn,^ apicis. 144 

But wee have longe since cutt off all eutaile 

His blood is from tainted blood, whence no blood cann prevaile.^^ 

tainted. niiiir.T ^ c -i* 

elles should the first borne-male for aye mherite, 
no barr could lye gainste anie wicked spirit. 148 

for^"^ so mote all prime-nates precedence claime, 
earth, water, ^^ laye, priest, fleshe, ore reason raigne ; 
i^onlie our selves ^*^ knowe wheare the secret lies, 
of secondes o're prime-nates predignities. 152 

His reasons are But^'' the proud boy begges praise vppon his witt ; 

discreditable. 

hob, glorious eloquence, without creditt ! 
i^surelie theare are wboe makes their witt the prize, 
that wittelie bringes home owne tragedies. 156 

naie, bee provokes foorth reas'n as of owne right ;i^ 

1—1 so now (forsooth) hee's forcd (bee vauntes), 

2 and 2—^ and wheare? in mutinizing^ Fregiley. but * and 

^—^ Canace his sister meeke -trewe- iust ; whose eies, ^ watchfull 

'^ knocke ^"~^ that sheets but ^~^ so hee will ^^ ought 
^1—11 for so his lawe of blood ought him conferr yt : hee is ^^ his 
^3 avalle i* and ^^ t/fc' water 16— 16 j^^^ oulie wee ^^ Yet 
18—18 Qf w/wch some are, whoe make their wittes the prize 
of spinnings wittelie own tragedies, 
yet hee provokes out reasn as in his right, 



Pt. v.] Q. Ethel urges Camhcscan to kill Algarsife. 55 

^ as if iustice his nurses had t'acquight, 

and so^ it hathe ; but not suche as hee meanes, 

w/n'ch 2 yet near had but love^ twixt twoe extreames. 

Lastlie, this ^peltinge orator^ proclaimes 161 Aigarsife pro- 

mises bribes to all 
bribes to all suche as with his side retaines who side with 

evn pleasure (as ^they pleasurablie standes*) : 

a glorious fetch, failure^ in troopes and bander, 164 

w7^^ch petulantlie subrogates to sense 

the Seminaroe of stale indulgence. 

a speedinge traine, whearew?*th the most are caught, (f. m 

Younge, old, male, female, and brought backe to naught. 

whearfore, deere husband, as our ^honors liefe 169 Cambusean must 

is^ setto sale by this lewd Aigarsife, 

to armes with speede; march gainste this*^ raskall boye, march, and kiii 

Aigarsife. 

and never turne vntill his lives distroye. 172 

it yerkes mee, that I bore the recreant ; His Mother 

whearfore let^ iustice all his quarters haunt, him. 

^because he deignes Yideria false t'obaye,^ 
(obedience makinge service, wise men saye) 176 

1^ whence as hee serves, and ioines t' our enimye, 
(w7^^chl^ mortalie waylaies our family e) 

so live, so dye hee (^^to vs^^ contrarie), He is infamous. 

12 ever remembred of ^^ damnd infamie. Ethelta^^." 
i^The queen theare^^made full point, then thus y^ 
kinge:^^ ^gl 

*^sweete Ethel, as I lent you listeninge, 

so, lovelie love, and^"^ by our mutual love, 

tell mee if ought this scandale may remove, 1 84 Cambuscan asks 

the blemishe salvd^^ (cause of your^^ sadd complaint) can't be remm^ed. 

that hath our house with infamie attaint V 

1—^ as yf our iustice n' had his pranckes t' acquight. but 6 

2—2 near was found yet but ^-^ bribing*? politicks 

*— * each pleasing<3 to him stand^s ^ to luer ^— ^ state and lief<" are 

^ the s lett thearefore ^—^ for that he false Viderea deignes obaie, 

10—10 2C(v^ sith hee ioines him with our enimie, whoe ii— ii as t' vs 

12—12 obnoxious ever to ^^ Ethelta om. in Ash. 14— 14 ^^^^^^ ^^^ j^^./^^ 

16—15 ^ijat said, shee ^^ king^ vz. ^^ j^Q^y 18 g^^y^ 



19 



our 



56 Gambuscan resolves to fyJit Algarsife, [Pt. V, 

^^mtreteng^ " IsToiie " (quotli^ the queene), "for shame so dieplie 

Queen Ethel says . x /? ^ 

that revenge must Stailieths, 

be taken . 

as nothmge cures it while the cause remayneth. 188 
on the traitor who nor ^suche a faitor cann I^ breath or brooke, 

justifies his trea- ' 

son. who^ hathe his treasons learnt ^so t' blanche^ by 

booke, 
as^ dares terme false trewe, trew false (^surquedrye), 
and all annoint with th' name of libertie ; 192 

whence never traitor yet presumd to rise/ 
but in false truithes, and liberties disguize, 
whearefore, deere husband, now denye mee not, 
^hatinge the cause, I^ will revenge the blott.'' 196 

Gambuscan agrees " ISTay then '^ (quoth liee), " If no remedie bee, 

to arm, i. \ i. / 

I will to armes, as all the world shall see. 
quiet^ your selfe a while, my^^^ owne sweete hart, 199 
and play the ^^ while I play^^ a knightes, husbanded, fathers part." 

knight. 

aiiicsioj^ Tho sange ann earlie crowe, ^^from topp of tree, 

longe^^ dismal notes, the weather wett woold bee, 
1'^ while glistringe Phoebus (noddinge beetl browd) 
peepd waterishlie through a dim-mantled clowd, 204 
yet flunge his dartes at the mornes crevicies, 
that all whoe basines had, mote see to ryse.^^ 
Canace thinks of Ear this Cauac, whose vse was, night & day 

her Falcon. 

i^to be last vp, and first m her araye,-^-^ 208 

^6 Falcon visited thought ou her gcutil falcou, sicke and sore, 

bi/ Caitac.^^ 

i^w/n'ch pacient sliee deignes carefullie deplore ; 

on whome (throughe her ringes vertewe,^'^ as was sayd), 

^~^ om. in Ash. ^ swore ^~^ can I such a faiter * that 

^— ^ to blanch ^ sith 

^^—'^ (polecie) the waie wheareto is chalkd for libertie, 

by dire ambition : wheare none e'ar did rise, 

^~^ for I th' cause hating^? ^ so rest ^^ mine n— ii x doings; 

12 om. in Ash. is— 13 amid a tree, sad 

14_14 ^j^^ Phoebus, looking*? heavelie in hood, 

(of a dim-waterish niantel-wimpling<? clowd) 
flung*? some dartes out at the light6^s crevisies, 
to shewe them (whoe had busines) time to rise. 
15—15 Iq \^qq fifg^ yp^ and foremost in the rale, 16— 16 om. in Ash. 

17—17 whome carefullie she visit^s evermore, 
and on her vsd her Ringes skill 



Canace's Falcon, 
shut up, laments 
the falseness of 
her Tercelet, 



who is at liberty. 



Pt. v.] Canace 8f her Falcon. Cambmcans Smnmons, 57 

oat plaisters, and in cordiaW, ^ofte sliee^ layd, 212 

and gave, ^vvithall, constant^ encouragement, 

as best befittes ^wheare th' vital spirited are spent. 

wbile the meeke Falcon, languisbinge in me we, 

beheld farr off, when all the skies weare blewe, 216 

how her false tarcelet gann her much abuse,^ 

in makinge ^th' woodes and hills ^ his common 

stewes ; 
^nay, looke what linn en, naprie, panch, or gutt, 
cast to the dung hill, or on hedges putt, 220 

this carrion kyte could find abrode or gett, 
bo the her and it gives to the Tercelet.^ 
^w/iich causd the Falcon pine and melt with greefe,^ 
as dothe"^ Canac, for her false Algarsife, 224 

s Whose conferrencies presentlie mote stay,^ 
sithe mars his trumpet calles vs^ all awaye. 

11 By this time had^i mavortial Cambuscan 
12 wrote manie breves, whearwith swift Postes out 



10 warr by land 
& seo, prcepar- 



rann,i2 228 

to everie i^ coast and stowt^^-sea-bordringe towne; 
and i^t' all Commaunders, sworne trewe to his 

crowne,!^ 
to see all i^ Armories furbushd^^ with speede, 
i^and bee in readines at instant neede.i^ 232 

One letter I'^was to^"^ Akafir directed, 
with large commission, as to one selected, 



Cambuscan bids 
his Commanders 



have their 
Armories ready. 



1—1 also 2~2 jier confident 
^—^ the vital spirited neere spent. 

Wheare, as her Falcon langwishd in the mewe 

she kennd farr off vnder the skie full blewe, 

how her false Tercelet did her missvse 

*— 4 wood^5, hilles, dales. ^—^ om. in Ash, 

^—^ at sight wheareof shee gnewe her hart for griefs, ^ did 

^—^ howbeet, thease doleful! leadens yet must stale, ^ them 

10—10 Qjf2,. in Ash. n— n for by this time 

12—12 j-^ad sent foorth breeves, whearewith warres swift postes ran, 

13—13 province, sheire, 14— 14 to Commaunders all (sworn to the crown) 

16—15 tharmories vp skowrd 

16—16 and all traind soldiers readie at his need ; 17— 17 beinge t' 



58. Cambuscan makes Akafir High Admiral [Pt. V. 



Akafiv is made 
Higli Admiral, 



has his sliips 
caulkt. 



fitted with canon, 



chain-shot, 



(f.llb.) 

cuirasses with no 
backs, &c. 



3 muster for y^ 
seas.^ 

Volunteers are 
p)'eferd to prest 
men. 



Ho bee of all the Seaes highe Admiral, 

sith 'gainst tli' kinges foes he formoste chargd of all, 236 

and with stowt swoord alone fell on the troope, 

which resolutelie hee forcd, gardeloope. 

this the kinge notinge, and for services, 

him fittest cleapd commaunder on his seas. 240 

This knight foorthwith bod calcke and rigg all shipps.^ 
2 With tallowe, boild pitch, okehani, tarr beclipps, 
with cables, ancors, tackle, mastes, irn, sailes 
(in leakes, losse, tempestes, store of these prevailes) ; 244 
with canons, powder, crosse barrs, round shott, pikes, 
bills, muskette^^ holberde^, ope and closelie strikes, 
with bowes and arroes, headded with wild fyor, 
with chaine shott, fierworke^, from the Gunners tyer, 
with ladles, chargers, skowrers, carthridges, 249 

with lint stockes, coolers, when oreheates encrease ; 
With swoorde^ and targette^, head peece, forecurates 
without backe Steele j)lates, for none backe retrates ; 252 
with stronge wrought furnitures and victuale6* store,^ 
sith, out at sea, cann begg at no mans dore. 

^Of these a muster general is made, 
of mariners and gallantes of warr trade, 256 

'mongst wJdch the voluntaries weare praeferrd 
before those whoe ne but for pressure sterrd;^ 
^and out of those th' ighe Admiral electeth 
provident pilates, whoe the fleete directeth,^ 260 



1—1 to bee high Admiral of all the seaes, 

for daring*? all the kinges foes fore him feaz<^ : 
and thearefore thought him stowtest knight of all, 
whome virtuous proofs deignd for most capital, 
for action is the Steele tries everie man, 
so hath to honor those by action wan. 
whome biddes in chiefs to rigg vp shippes and calk^. 
2—2 12 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted : — 

boord men, armes, ordinance, the brines to stalks, 
great Canons mount, provid<? in victuals stor^, 
3—3 Q^y^^^ i^ Ash. ^— * 4 li7ies om. in Ash. 
6--5 "Wheareto, now th' admiral gann make election 
of well skilld Yiloies for the fleetes direction. 



Pt. v.] Akqfirs Instructions to his Meet. 59 

1 tliat knowes to shunn flatte, shelfes,^ sanded, rocket, Pilots are chosen, 

and daungers, 
and as well all home ^creekes as coastes^ of straungers, who know coasts, 
^and liow at last to bringe home peace and rest 
in the safe hauon,^ wheare to arive is blest. 264 

^AU these in soldiers cotes, of redd on white, au are drest in 

white, with red 

darraignd a brave and gallant manlie sight,^ facings. 

^of lustie bodies nimblie condisposd,^ 

to seeke out action (as their lookes^ disclo[5]d). 268 

In whose alF praesence th' Admiral displaies Akafir flies cam - 

. PI, . buscan's colours. 

^Cambuscans colors, th ensigne of th essaies, 

whose embleam everie soldier knewe before, ^ 

yet Akafir it vanned, ^with brave decore, 272 

and told them all, th' are^ bounde to make it good, His men swear 

^^for so the kinge will, thonghe with^^ losse of blood. 

They swore the would; then, ^^as like minded ^'^othofwuiers}-^ 
frendes, 
th' Admirals brief e^^ oration thus intendes 276 

that all men, ^^the next tide, must^^ bee aboord, 
on paine of death, as martial lawe^* afoord. 
^^then each shipp shall sett saile, and^^ folio we him, He orders the 

ships to follow 

to Cape mor dieu, in Faerie land, to winn ; 280 wm to cape Mor- 

T fl . p 1 . Bieu in Fairy 

16 but if roughe stormes or mistes, at sea them seaver. Land. 

beare vp t' ^^ f ortie Degrees to meete togeather. 

I'^'that sayd, hee ore each shipp a pilote gave, 

with other officers of good behave ji'' 284 

1—1 whoe knowe flatted, shelves, to shun^i, 2—2 costes as creekes 

3—3 yea, how to brings home peace at last, and rest for the footes sole 
*— 4 om, in Ash. and the following lines inserted : — 
but first preferrs his voluntarie men, 
fore them whome paies impresse had to constren, 
5—5 whose able bodies gladlie they disposd ^ will^^ '' in all whose 
8—8 the colors of Cambuscans great essaies, 

whose Ensign, though each soldier knewe afore 
9—^ for more decore, as they stand faster 
10—10 as hee him self<? will with the 11—11 Q-fji^ in Ash. 
12— n iq those martial frend^^, thigh Admiral<?s 13—13 ^ar the next tid*? 

1* lawes 16—15 when everie saile shall sett to 

16—16 vvhome warnes yf mistes or stormes the fleet chaunce sever, beare to 

17—17 Qjfi^ 1)1 ^i^ji^ 



60 The Fleet sets ScciL Camhallo musters Soldiers. fPt. V. 

^providinge that th' Idnges colors and emblem 
wave, all alofte, the mayne-mastes-highest stem. 
The Fleet is Thus drawes th'owr now that th' whole fleete must 

''^''^^' depart, 287 

niayne yardes vp hoisd, crosse sailes hunge all a thwart, 
ancors at copstone, readie to bee wayd, 
masters and boteswaines-whistelles lowdlie brayd, 
whence to depart, dothe quicklie chaunge the cheere, 
as well of land frendes as the marinere : 292 

the men take leave but frcndcs for frendcs, and lovers for their lovers, 

of sweethearts, - ^ o ^ ,^ 

relations, and gann sighe, parentis lor sonns, sisters lor brothers, 
betakinge all to god, wishe mirry mee tinge, 
the woomens last farewell (endinge in weepinge) 296 
bewraies, althoughe the land putter off the seas, 
yet better concordance woold better please.^ 

^ sea discipline? Thus gonn are they to sea, wheare Akafir 

Fighting orders ^soonc publishd the strict^ Discipline of warr, 300 

^w/zich first iniones^ obedience and respect, 
to all Commannders^ (officers elect), 
^specialie to dewe^ services divine, 
forbiddinge othes, lies, qnaffe<9 of beere and wine, 304 
''treasons and brawles, not pardond, doth repealed 
(hard taske and strannge) ; ^no mariner^ shoold steak. 
9 land muster. 9 ^^In the mcane time, conragious Camball drewe^^ 

into the feild thold garrisones and newe, 308 

Cambaiio musters ^ whcarcof hcc vicwcs to mustcr jonge and old, 

the Soldiers. i n i n i • • 

and of them soone observes the spirited moste bold, 
resolutions^ sayenge, " my hartes, wee'l ride out^^ calme & storme, 
and fight the game out till the last man borne." 312 
^^ those whoe replied in silence with a smile,^^ 

^-1 14 lines 01)1. in Ash. 2— 2 ^^^^^ in Ash. ^—^ proclaimd the strict kept 

4—^ and first inioind ^ commaunding^? ^-^ especialie to 
7—7 not pardning^ treasn and brall^s, then did repeale 8— 8 t^^t no sailer 

^—^ om. in Ash. i^— ^^ This while conragious Cambal foorth out drewe 
-^1—^1 and dilligentlie mustred youngs and old, 

of whiah. preferrd those spirit^s weare coldlie bold ; 
to whome thus, " Wee must bear^ vp 
1^ oni. 1)1 Ash. i^~i^ and those whose fewer word<?5 contest with smile 



Pt. v.] Cambuscans Anny^ and Horse of Brass, 61 

hee valued 1 best, and ranckd them in his fyle.^ 

^Qambuscans selfe was the chiefe General, officers^ 

Cambuscan is 

but men did Camball lord Liuetenant call.* 316 commander-in- 

chief; Camballo, 
whoe soone drewe tli' armie into battailes three, Lord-Lieutenant. 

to march ^thone fore annother in degree : 

first th' vantgard, midle next, and^ last the Eeare, border for 

march.^ 

as youthe, ^manhode, grave" age, succession beare. 320 
^and wheare the first twaine rashelie chaunce to 

fight, 
the wisest,^ last, should theire disorders right. 

Then^ in Cambuscan spurrd, vpon Ducello, discHpuonw 

Cambuscan spurs- 

(his brazen horse) feircer^^ then Neptunes billo, 324 in on his Brazen 

Horse, Ducello, 

whose dauncmge plumes, ^'^ topp oi his armors shme, 

seemd at the sonns beames many sonns t'entyne : 

i^with bevers casement ope, which, told each eye, 

that theare within dwelt roial maiestie 3^^ 328 

^^and by his^* syde his swoord Morliuo wore; and wears his 

^^his right hand a directinge^^ warder bore. 

i^At whose approche th' whole armie veild their His army salutes. 

pikes, 
soldiers and officers on knees down strikes ,1^ 332 

i"*^ while hee rode vp and downe^'^ from streete to 

streete, 

1 reckoned 
2 As7i. here inserts : — 

as beings of that crewe, whose silent deedes 
would lowder claime then anie verbal meed<?.<?. 
and those to regiment^s and companies 
disparteth orderlie, and Colonies. 
Chirargiens, and Phisitiens eak<9, assignd, 
as well to cure the body as the mind. 
3 07}i. in Ash. 
*— 4 Cambuscan was him selfe Lord General, 
but they Camballo his Livetenent call, 
s— ^ one fore annother by degree ; the vauntgard first, Next midle, 

6—6 Q^^ i^ j^gji^ 7—7 to manhode, 

8—^ to thend that wheare the first twaine rashlie fight, the gravest 

9 Tho 10 om. in Ash. 

11 more feirce ^^ plume 

13—13 Qjfi^ i^ Ash. 14—14 (Jown by whose 

15—15 and in his hand a leadings 16— 16 ^,^„,^ i^^ j^gji,^ 

17—17 thear<?, vp and down hee rod<? 



G2 Cambuscan revietvs his Arw/y and finds it fit. [Pt. V. 



^feild disciplined 

(f. 12) 

Cambuscan finds 
his army in good 
trim : 



ready to march, 

charge, deploy, 
guard the Colours, 



336 



340 

charge, 



use long or short 
weapons. 



gain others* 

ground, 

keep their own, 



reconnoitre. 



2 to trie if they good formes and orders weete. 
theare them he findes in^ martial discipline 
^well ordred,^ in the midle, fore, and hyne, 
taught^ able, out of files, in ^nimble space, 
to double ranckes,^ and singel backe in place, 
backward,^ foreward, sidewise, turne, returne, 
and what they facd behinde, to front "^ aforne, 
march, stand, move, part, remove, thvirhole^ 

retire, 
shocke close, ope wide, alP musketes lyninge nyer, 
^^to gard th'whole corps,^^ the colors specialie, 
11 as hartes, lives, honors secret (midst dothe stye), 344 
and then 11 doe winges of shott make pikes theire 

owne,i2 
when troopes of horse woold find the foote alone ; 
i^dextrouslye shake longe weapons, whifF the short, 
tennis in armors, (vse makes paine good sport,) 348 
laye downe (on cause i^) some armes, t'elope a space, 
buti^ instantlie runn to the selfe same place, 
i^knowinge all languages of Captaines drum, 
march softe, stand faste, pari, call, charge home, backe 

comm,i5 352 

winn bravelie others groundes, owne well maintaine, 
as drum, fife, trumpeted clangor, i^have to sayen ; 
faithfullie keepei*^ the word, watch court of gard, 
stand sentinel, i^aunswer alarums,!"^ ward, 356 

make skowt-watch, inrodes, gett intelligence, 



1—^ om.. in Ash. 
2—2 to see 5^f his well ordered formes thej weet, according^ to his 
3—3 disposing^ * soone ^— » lesser space theirs ranckes to doubl, 
^ then backward, '^ face ^ all ^ the 
10—10 thwhole corpes to gard, 
11—11 as lief^s hart, honors secret, midd doth hie, fore yvldch 12 j^ome 
13—13 shake dextrous] y \onge pikes, whiff weapons short, 
plaie tenis armd, vse makes labor a sport, 
on cause laie down i^ and 

1^—15 all langwages well knowing*? of the drumm, 

march fast, soft, troope, stand, charg*?, call, pari, backe com, 
16—16 ]jgt darraign, keepe faithfullie 1^—1^ alarums aunswer, 



and will deal 
death to the foe. 
12 brave warr 
horse.^^ 
Canibuscan's 
Brazen Horse 



Pt. v.] Tke Army admire Ducello^ the Horse of Brass, 63 

^certifie, with industrious intuence, 

with^ manlie presence, willinge dilligence, 

at no shott starting^, covam, ne^ g06, hence, thence, 360 stand firm, 

^so as all bodies doe conioine in one,^ aii act as one man, 

hartes, motions, mindes, b' obedience^ vnion. 

for by the rule^ of perfect discipline, 

soules, bodies, ^actes, intendes but^ one designe, 364 

Love "^ holding th' centar ^"^ contraries they hate. 

Let foes comm ^wheare they dare, earlie^ or late ; 

truith, iustice, ^binn the leveP of their prize, 367 

gainste w/^^ch whoe comes ,^^ of many deathes he^^ dies. 

This sight reioict Cambuscans nobliste hart, 
at^^ wMch his horse Ducello ^^once noold^^ start, 
i^but not feirce Eabican, ne Bucephal 
so nieeke stoode, vnder roial-riders stall 372 

as gann this braver horse, viewinge this geere, 
yet trode the measures, as the kinge gann steere, 
as if mineruaes foale, at reasons chime, 
trampled t' associate Victors discipline : 376 

Whearein curveddes, with brave sublimitie 
(Pallas engin, Troies horse, noold halfe so hie).^^ 
w7?^ch quickly e stirrd^^ thVhole armies acclamation, 
i-^sithe virtue makes ^'^ on virtue exaltation. 380 

i^all which, with goodlie presence, faire decore, 
unmovd in cell, hee did his praise the more : 
and that soone drewe vnto him, in the streete, 
all eyes, ears, tonges, for all men rann to seet.^^ 384 

^^Wheare, havinge them, hee a lov/e congewe beare, 
sithe great assemblies greater are then th' are, 
it guizinge still t' entreate^^ before commaund, 



curvets and 
prances. 



The Army admire 
him. 



w/wch certifie with speed ie intuence of ^ qj. 

* bobedient ^ 
th' Center holding*? 



-2 still so, as all theire bodies ioiiie in one, 
^— ^ thought^s are brought to ''— '' 



rules 



S-8 earlie whear«9 they dare ^~^ th' levell being*? '^^ come 

1^ heere 12—12 ^^^^^ ^,^ As7i. ^^ from 14— 14 would not 

15—15 g lifigg Q-f)i^ ifi Ash. 1^ movd 17— ir -wheare Virtewe mad(? 

18—18 4 lines 0111. in Ash. ^^ am. in Ash. 
20—20 all whome thus havinge, hee lowe congiewes bear*?, to this great 
armie (greater by the warr) them deigning^ to entreat 



64 



Cambuscan tells 
his Soldiers 



that his Son's 
Rebellion is the 
cause of the War. 



They would not 
let their Sons 
seize their Forts, 



and plot against 
their lives. 



Cambuscan s Speech to Ids Army. [Pt. V. 

as ranckinge love fore iustice in the stand. 388 

1 howbeet, could rigge vse, in case of right, 

t'orerule oppressors, mawlger might and spight. 

*^ Subiecte^" (quoth hee), ^^and fellowe^ soldiers all, 

the cause whie to the feild ^I thus you call,^ 392 

is to my selfe best known, and to you^ well, 

^so, lesse discourse serves, wheare yowr selves doe 

feel, 
tis but one dropp of natures blood en tines ^ 
this mutinie, this vprore in our loynes, 396 

^that vexeth you, that troublethe mee and him,^ 
whose faultes I rather wishe weare none, then seen : 
^It is the boye Algarsife (falsed boye),^ 
my shame, griefe, woe." ^Eut theare hee made a stay, 
griefe sealinge's lipps, w/^zch though his lidded could 

hyde, 401 

Yet^ feathers, whoe had sonns too, soone ^it spyde. 
*^I lead you now to th' warrs (ann^ vncothe warres), 
that in my^ owne house, bosome, life blood darrs 404 
the father gainste the sonn, ann hatefull cause, 
w/i^'ch^o fyers owne bowelW, bringes all by the iawes. 
now, if yee cann digest that sonnes of youres, 
shoold gainste yee (ffathers) raise ^^ rebelHous powres, 
seaze on yowr fortes, your tenentes hartes inveagle, 409 
corrupt yoztr servauntes, practise with^^ ^]^q people, 
take armes, make head, yea, machinate your lif^, 
if this yee brooke, so iudge of Algarsife ; " 412 



i~^ though could vse rigor, for wronging^ the right, 
and all Oppressors rule mawger their*? might. 
"Yee subiectd,9," quoth hee, "fellow 
'^—2 J i^^Q^v yee call "^ yee 

4—* need ^5 thearefor^ lesse discourse, wheare yt yee feel : 
it is one drop, one drop of blood entines 
6—5 wZ'ich vexeth mee, w/^ich trouhleth yee, and him, 
6—6 I meane the boie, the false boie Algarsif<3, 
7—7 and theare staid of that greefe that seald his lippes, yet in his eies 
discried what 

8—^ espied. " I lead yee to the warres, (most ^ mine ^^ that 
11 lift 12 on 



Pt. v.] Camhuscaris Army take up Ids Cause. 65 

and tlieare lie pawzd, whearat tli' whole lioast gann^ The Amy de- 
mand Algai'sif s 
Crye, death. 

" Out, out, proclaime him traitor, let^ him dye." 

The kinge then trilld the pinn in's horses eare, 

^came neerer, lowder ment, that all mote heare. 416 

^' then fellowe-soldiers,^ give your best advise, 

theare, wheare a sonn doth gainste his parentes rise, He consults them 

farther. 

and modell foorth suche monstrous praesident 
^as mote yee touche so neere,^ weare youres so bent; 
w7^^ch hazardeth the states^ chaunge, in ^to bringe 421 (f.i2b) 

traitors o're you and youres, to bee your kinge,^ 
vntrulie and vniustelie (as you"^ see) j 
^saye, fellowe^ soldiers, will yee light, or flee'?" 424 
At that some ^wept, that their good^ kinge shoold 
thincke 
they durst not ^^ fight, or from his cause ^^ woold shrincke : 
i^sodainlie thearfo re, burst with this clamore, 
or rather vowinge with one common rore,^! 428 They declare 

that battaile they ^^demaundes, sayenge,^^ "lette-5 fight, 
that dint of swoord ^^ our f aithes maye plainelie quight,!^ 
and putt i^false traitors alP^ to th' edge of th'^^ swoord, they'll slay false 
^^and, in hott blood, no sparcke of grace afFoord. 432 
but die wee will/*^ or bringe the traitors head, and bring him 

Algarsif s head. 

that^" hathe your house, o kmge, thus slaundered." 

" Thanckes " (quoth the kinge), "^^ha, yet^^ a fFathers 

hart 

felt of kinge Dauides Love, the subtile ^^ dart, 436 

i did 2 and lett 

3—3 that what they knewe not earst mote neerer heer^. then thus, " yee 
soldiers " 

*— 4 as maie touch yee as neere, ^ state 

^—^ doth bring<3, in bringing*? traiters or'e yee to bee kingi?, 

7 yge 8-8 gaie then yee ^—^ sighd, that once'their<9 

10—10 fQp \i\xn fight, or thence 

11—11 bui'st thearefore out into this sad clamore, 
with vowinge in one general outrore, 
12—12 demaund ; and cried i3--i3 q^. publicke faith maie quite, 
14-14 the traiters ^^ the 

16—16 jijj hottest blood, wMch hath no grace to afoord : for wee will die, 
1"^ whoe 18—18 jSfathles ^^ th'intestine 

l.ANE. F 



66 



Cambuscan tells 
his Army 



that words with- 
out blows. 



and paper shot, 
will not subdue 
the Fregilians. 



The Soldiers say 
they'll fight. 



He declares he'll 
lead. 



Cambuscan 8 talk tvith his Army, [Pt. V. 

^when as it feeles atteare compunction, 

so^ manie Joabes gainste one Absolon. 

^ Yet thus the Idnge : " brave ^ soldiers, it is trewe, 

that, ^quicklie the^ Fregiliens to subdewe, 440 

with deedles ^ wordes, brow-frownes, ^ slipp shooes, 

clenchd fiste,^ 
eye blanckes,mowthe giewe, papern^ shott (as some wiste) 
is vaine to thincke, for they "^bin verie stronge,^ 
^and have reinforcd and ruminated longe :^ 444 

^so have they victuals, and munition store, 
and manie princes aides (combind of yore) ^ 
i^with alP^ Videriaes mischaunt pollecies, 
w/i^'ch (ex re nata) stilP^ hathe to devise. 448 

^2 whearef ore, for vs to presse, or^^ conquer them, 
■^3 mote aske muche virtewe,^^ and highe stratagem." 

'' ISTo force '' (quod they) " wee no mans colors feare ; 
I'^vaunce but your ensigne, and \<dXies have yee theare,^* 
i^and (for your sake) all men, naye feindes, shall seete, 
your foes wee dare pluck out by th' eares, and meete."^^ 

Cambuscan ioyd their promises, ^^ yet sayd, 
" I never ment, that anie man employd 456 

i^in these hott warrs, and daungerous essaies 
(whose nature male not brooke the least delaies),^*^ 
shall so bee bound, as doe^^ thinge impossible, 
or so vnbound, as iitle doe, or idle. 460 

1 1^ neither will expect that anie doe^^ 
but what my selfe will formerlie goe to."^^ 



i—i w/z-icb yirnd of that kindlie compunction, sees 

2—^ thus thearefore sayd, kind ^—^ the stiff neckd 

4 workeles ^— ^ and clenched fist, ^ paper '^—^ are woxen strongs 

s— 8 as they reinforced are by custom long^ : ^~^ om. in Ash. 

10—10 holpe by ^^ shee 12—12 f^^. yg thearefore to presse to 

13—13 behoves strict courses, 

14—14 foi' iett^5 but have your colors vaunced thear<?, &c. 

15—15 ^y^^^ i^ Ash, ^^ confidence i?"— 17 om. in Ask. ^^ to 

19—19 jjor yet expect that anie one shall doe 

20 Ash. here inserts : — ■ 

example having<3 that aucthoritie 

wAich most prevailes with the plebiscitie. 



Pt. v.] Queen Mheltds Address to the Army. 67 

i^'Oh thrice, thrice noblie well resolud" (quoth they) ; 
''- and lett him die, that nil this kinge obaye : " 464 
acclaiminge it, '^Lord, weel' doe all wee cann." 

'' I looke no more " (quoth hee) '* of anie man, cambuscan says 

he'll share his 

for I Will putt no soldier to that daunger men's danger, 

that I my selfe shall flye : " So Alexander./ 468 

At that, head peeces all vp flewe on hie, 
with ioifull teeres and clamors to the skye, 
and swore, no cowarde, but all deathes woold prove, 
for him who sweetneth so their sowr with love./^ 472 

^Queene Ethelta,^ whoe yet her mind supprest, ^Etheitae's 

. revenge.^ 

came m maturelie for her interest, 

whose glorious^ presence, as the sonn in spheare, 

advokd all eies and eares ^to see and heere,^ 476 

^gann doff her maske, and lifter her lillie hand, 

in signe of speeche, wJiich causd a quiet stand. ^ she makes a 

^^*bold spirited, and lustrant heroes" (quoth shee),"^ Army. 

^^if Ladies ^wronge may move, then^ harcke to mee, 

^if a queenes suite,^ of subiectes bee obayd ; 481 

if not, Yet heere a mother, quite betrayd Her wicked son 

has betrayd her, 

by her owne sonn, by a most wicked boy, 

whose name to heere ^^will but your ears accloye. 484 

Wee^^ mothers are not bounde to tell oar ^^woes, 

in breedinge younge bones, or^^ in childbead throes, notwithstanding 

12 ne vaunt our care to feede them with our sucke, care of wm. 

rocke, dandle, dresse, and heede them gainst ill lucke, 

sendinge our eies, eares, handes, after them still, 489 

that hurt, ne windes blast, nipp them, if o're chill, 

our 12 cost of tutorship for education, 

1—1 10 lines om. in Ash. 2— 2 Queene Efcheel tho', ^—^ ovi. in Ash, 

* fierie ^~^ for love, or fear^ ; ®— ^ oni. in Ash. 

7—7 to whome thus, Lustrant heroes heere, see, 

8—8 wronges male move yee, ^—^ yf Queenes suites male 

10—10 jjiy mowth, your eares doth cloy : thougli 

11—11 theirs woes in yonge bones breedings, nor 

12—12 uor tell our kindnes, feedings them with suck*?, 

how rock*?, dresse, dandle, in hope of good luck<?, 

nor how wee watch to gard, and heed them still 

that windes blast hurt them not, yf over chill ; nor 

F 2 



68 Queen Elheltds Speech to the Army, [Pt. V. 



Tho' s]\e lias 
tended Alj^arsif, 



he, instead of 
bein£? grateful, 



has joind hev 
enemies. 



(f. IS) 



He is false, and 
ought to die. 
The Army ap- 
prove. 



1"' Canac heggeth 



^our after cares, as they gaine maturation,^ 492 

with providence to leave .snche heritance 

as best theire states, ^and honors, may advannce; 

besides, to niatche them to suche fytt allies 

as male confirme more^ love gainste enimies. 496 

^JSTow, after this is donn^ Nay halfe well donn,^ 

behold the basenes^ of a wicked sonn, 

hoAv, in steade of filial gratuitie, 

wheareto wee parente^* ^ thin eke, w' have them to 



tye,5 



500 



by lawe of loves debt ^natural dutie,^ 

(wA^'cli not to doe, is natures felonie), 

hee makes him guiltie of all these att once, 

disloialie. but Justice breakes his bones, 504 

sithe^ hee that ioines him to^ our enimies, 

^and as hee linckes and lurckes in contraries, 

so hathe hee raisd vp suche antipathic,^ 

as either hee must die or wee must die. 508 

for^^ trew and false, iust and vniuste, so seaver, 

as nought i^them reconciles, but love,^^ togeather. 

but hee is false, ^^and so of right ought die."^^ 

^' Amen, amen ! " ^^th'whole host alowd gann crie, 512 
swearinge^^ she spake iust as shee is, a queene, 
and as shee deemeth^^ him, so him they deeme. 

All this while, meeke Canac stood backe behind, 
vnmentiond^ vn thought on, as out of kind, 516 

w^as hid^^ in teeres, lost, or gonn out of sight ; 
for love is ofonn, wheare riojor gettethe mi^^ht. 



1-1 or of our charge ear they gett maturation, 
2—2 iq honors blisse maie vaunce : 

winch donn, to match them with such fitt allies, 
as breed <?s more forcd by 
3—3 Yet after thease, Naie ear halfe theas well donn, 4 lewdnes 
^— ^ have on them a tye, ^~^ and by natures loy '^ for ^ with 

9—9 and lurclces in false trewe coyned contraries 
hath raisd such ann abhorrd antipathie 
10 sith 11—11 cann reconcile them frend^s 12—12 g^ ought of right to die 
13—13 the Campe alowd did crie, and swore 1* iudgeth 

15—15 orf)^^ jfi j^gjf^ 16 ^Yj^g hiddn 



Pt. v.] Canace pleads ivith the Army for Algarsif, 69 

^yet, as the sonn, mantled in watrie clowd, mmiW^ 

keepes liome^ his glories (to none elks alowd) 520 

till, breakinge ^throughe, the more his bewties seeme,^ 

as advmbration, ^it presenter more sheene ; 

so clowded^ Canac, as a wretche forlorne, Canace asks leave 

besought her parentes, if it might bee borne, 524 

that shee, thonghe weake^ mayd, to his armie^ speake, to speak to the 

Army. 

"^w/w'ch, if shee may not, sure her hart will breake. 
"Yea, god forbid""^ (quod they), "speake, daughter 
deere." 
^tho, vp shee cleerd her browe, and spake as heere : 528 
" Deere ^ (thoughe feirce)frendes ^of amies, your oratresse she blushes at her 

boldness, 

blusseth of boldnes, at the^ first mgresse, 

that ear shee sewd^^ to the sterne martial crewe ; 

beare with mee, thoughe ^^ I misse your titles dewe, 532 

i^beinge right lothe, in th' least part, to oifende ; 

Lawe yet permittee vs tV^^ absent to defend. 

Alas,^^ Us too trewe, my sacred mother telks, 

i^how my vnfortunate brother rebelled ; 536 and confesses her 

•^ ^ _ ' Brother's rebel- 

the more wilbee his paine,^^ Not lesse my woe, lion, 

w/^^ch, but by feelinge, I could hardlie^^ shoe : 

i^my hart, head, eies, daie, night, I^^ steepe in water, 

^''comfortes I iiye,i^ lothe gladnes of the psalter ; 540 

^^I feede on sorrowe, though tes all languishe give, 

I supp vp languishe, pensivenes I live ; 

but ah, what cares ^^ feirce men, whose hartes lesse feeie but begs the 

1—1 as when the son in saddest waterie clowd, keepes in 
2 om. in Ash. ^~^ out abruptlie, is more seene, 

*— * furthereth his sheene ; so wett eyed ^ seelie ^ tharmie 
''■—'^ yf not, her pining^ hart will foorthwith breaks, "then sale your 
mind." 

^—8 so vp shee cleerd her voice, and browe, as heere. "Yet deere," 
9—9 your weake Oratresse of boldnes blusheth at her ^^ made ^^ yf 
12—12 loth beinge in your least rites to offend : Yet lawe permittee the 
1^ though 

14—14 ^hat mine vnhappie brother so rebell<?s as th'more wilbee his paine, 
1*^ never 16— 16 ^ow I mine hart, head, eies. still i7— 17 jQy comfortes flie, 
18—18 feede but on sorowes, wAich mindes angwish give, 

w7«ch sippinge languishes, doe pensive live. 

yet what care yee 



70 Canace pleads for 'mercy for Algarsif, [Pt. V. 

Soldiers to be then Hiettall men, whoe knowes^ to softenn Steele 1 544 

merciful. 

But are yee men, 'wliioh doe professe to kill *? 

^knowe yet, that harder tis to build then sj)ill.2 

But are yee hunters after victorie 1 

^knowe yet, the valient abhorrs crueltie.^ 548 

But are yee iusticers of ^eqnitie'? 

know yet, the iustist also have pittie,* 

But are yee vengers of theires^ treasons'? (his^) 

know yet,^ the mercilesse doe mercie misse. 552 

But will yee free your state of them,*^ and him ? 

^know yet, state killers are not without sinn. 

and not to kill what if yee kill him, and hee chaunce repent '?s 

shoold hee not twice die of one punish ement 1 bb^ 

^what if some of your sonues bee^ gonn with him^ 
and they repent? shall ^*^they die^^ for his synn 1 
but^^ will yee kill vp all your sonns also? 
6 ffathers, pittie first, before ^^ yee goe ! 560 

* But^^ if your owne sonns shoold, by chaunce, kill you % 
^^ Oedipus did so, and it no thinge knewe.^* 

her Brother 1^ But to kill Algarsif 6,^^ dothe kill my brother, 

Algarsif, 

yea, theldest sonn of one ffather and mother. 564 

remember, ^^that by dutie natural, ^^ 
yee owe ^^obedient Love to th'^^ blood roial. 
but pity him. i8|;]^jj^gi^g qj^18 ]^jg faultcs with love, let pittie move, 

ell 65 hee's no martial man that hath no love. 568 

^^6, then brave martial men, l^e lett bee sedd, 
pittie, for lacke of love,i^ in yee is dead ! 
ne lett good men so whett theire swoordes in state, 

1 have 2—2 Yet know tis harder farr to make, then spill. 

3—3 yet knowe, the vaHent most hate crueltie. 

4—4 veritie, yet knowe, the iustest pittie have perdij. 

^ yond ^ yet knowe, '^ his 
^—8 yet knowe state killers diepest are in sinn. 
but what if him yee kill, and hee repent ? 
9—9 Or what if your own sonnes are io~io youres die ^^ then 
12 ear on ^^ Or 1^-14 ^s did blind CEdipus, and it not knewe ; 
16—15 yet Algarsif to kill 16— 16 then of dewtie capital 
17—17 obedience to the is— is then tax 

10-19 ^Qyf then kind martialist<?6', near*? lett bee sedd that pittie for loves lackd 



Pt. v.] Canaces influence on the Army, 71 

^as pride and avarice promote debate.^ 572 

but let loves pittie keepe tbis glorie still :, canace pleads for 

^ ^ ^ ' pity ou Algarsif. 

more bonorable tis^ to save tben kill, 
knowinge^ tbat tbey, whose fames ^reaclid vp to skie,^ 
lotbd cowardice, ^wbose badge is crueltie.^ 576 

besides, to kill once, near cann make alive,^ 
so iustice "^maie, purcliaunce, yee near forgive J 
sfor this hatbe oft binn said, and thearefore knote, 
they shall no mercie find that pittie note/'^ 580 

^and theare shee stoppd, but wept, evn showres of she weeps, 
raigne, 

Wheareat th'whole host had small powr to containe, 
for Ladie Canac was to them full deere,^ 
as welP^ the queene sawe written in their cheere. 584 

Whence they whoe woold Algarsife killd wileare, The soldiers wish 
^^noold kill him now, but take him prisonere;^^ Aigarsif prisoner, 

and give him to his ffather for correction, 
to doe with him and them at his election. ^^ 535 

Cambuscan likd all well his daughter did, 
^^Yet weetelie in his countenance it hid. 

Howbeet,^^ Queene Ethelta for iustice cried ; Etheita wants 

i^but Canac,i4 '^pittie, pittye,'^ still replied. 592 ^""'™' 

the mother from the daughter diff eringe : (f. 13 b) 

1—^ as but ambition for swaie lacerate ^ \s, ^ and know 

*— * attaind the skie, ^~^ best known by crueltie ^ relive 
^— " also near^ male yee forgive. 
8— s om. in Ash. and the foUon^ing lines inserted : — 

yee thearefore needes must heereto condiscend, 
that man, once killd, can near his fault^^s amend. 
yet lett to live hee male : so male your sonnes, 
for fan* hee goes (men sale) that near<? back^ comes. 
9—9 this said, shee stoppd, her eies down showring<9 raine. 
whioh scene, the host had small powr to refraine, 
for Ladie Canace was to them so deer*? 
^9 plaine n-n now would not kill him, but take prisonere, 

^2 Ash. here inserts : — 

an instance that th'incoustant peoples faith, 
affirmes what ever eloquentlie saieth, 
most certaine proving^? that same active creed, 
whose demonstration to yt selfe shewes deed. 
13—13 Yet in his countenance yt dieplie hidd. Nathles u—U Canace for 



The Army's de- 
cision on Algar- 
sif's fate 



72 The Army goes to its Quarters, [Pt. V. 

^this, sterne and liott; tliat, meeke as water springe.^ 

so that betweene tlie twaine the motives weare 

vrgd so patheticklie, by her and here, 596 

as th'oste distracted was with ire and woe, 

^knowinge, but as they^ felt their life blood goe, 

t'encline to this or that ; ffor suche deplore 

^was in theire confines never heard afore ;^ 600 

yet faine woold yeeld^ contentment vnto bothe, 

^as either in them inwardlie was lothe, 

none yet felt^ whoe had, whoe had not, denial, 

is put off. till future conflict brought^ the case to trial. 604 

auusw.7 ^Bj this had Phoebus wheeld his coach to west, 

Evening comes. Wheare, drawiugc theveninges curtaines read, exprest 
him equale, and indifferent arbitrator 
of this inquest. Evn so, as moderator 608 

twixt dale and night, he this grand court dismist,^ 
that th'armie mote disarme and goe to rest. 

i^Tho to theire quarters eyerie square was ledd, 
while th' Pioners,^^ as they weaxe ordered, 612 

iigann wall and trenche in th'^^campes fortification, 
wheare not a soldier but learnt th' occupation 
of cabininge gainste i^gtorme and^^ dewes of heavn, 
but^s goone of each cohort, by numbers even, 616 

gann sett the watche with^^ sound of drum, then faerd, 

Sentries are set, some to theire Sentries, seme to ^Hh' Courtes^^ of gard, 
i<5some to th' scowt watch, wheare^^ after certaine howres, 

andreiievd, freshe secondes gann^^ relive the former powres. 620 

1—1 this sternhe hott, that mild as fountaines spring*? : 
2—2 not knowings, but as ^"^ was never in their<? confines heard of yore 

4 give ^~~^ as each was inwa].'dlie for either loth, none feelinge 
6 bringe ^ om. in Ash. 

8—8 lyy this Apollo wheeld his chariot west, 
and Vesper her evns curtain ettes exprest, 
them selves standinge indifferent moderators 
of this inquest ; so as they (tharbitrators) 
twixt light and darck^ this grand concert disperst, 
9—9 om'. in Ash. ^^—^^ Tho, everie squadron was to quarter lead, that pioners 
11-11 should soone entrench the ^^-I'i ^aine, wind^6' ^^ ^v^ne i* by 
15-15 Courtes ^^-^^ some to skowt watch ; that after certaine howres, 

17 mote 



9 the Campe 
quartered.^ 
Pioneers entrench 
it. 



Pt. VI.] Watch is well kept at NigJd. 



73 



Meanetime, Cambuscan roundes in Camballs eare 
this secret watcli worde, w/^^ch none olles mote^ heere, 
" Yer6 & iuste," which lie liathe ^t'impart, 
but to th' watcbe Captaines (officers of th' gart), 624 
and they to suche as walkd the wakefull rownd,^ 
w/^^ch at eacbe Sentrie, Garde eake, softe dothe sound. 



1 watch word i 

given by Cambus- 
can " verS et 
justg," 



Canto Sexto, 

^Cambuscan goes to th' feild and leaves* 

Canac and Serra vnder Ethel's care, 
shee Camball blissd ; but Canac streaves,^ 

with her in Love : the soules state they declare. 

7 Chaunticleere, the sadd nightes horaloger, 
vp thrilld the poize that his clockes vt^atch gami sterr, 
to number^ and dispart black time by howres, 3 

^ w/w'ch hee to th' v^ide world with ope mowth distowres, 
while snugginge they in cabbins laye each one, 
Flegme beinge yet in domination ; 
onlie Cambuscan and stowt Camballo 
oite rose to serch if thoste watcht well or no. 8 

and tooke it into owne officious cure, 
that greater charge hathe greater taske t'endure.^ 
But winged time, whioh^ never sleepes ne stales 
to bringe the destinies onwarde^^^ their waies, 12 

calld vp^^ the lowringe sonn in ruddie morne, 



Cambuscan takes 
the field. 
Q. Ethelta stays 
in Serra, 



allusio.^ 
During the night 



Cambuscan and 
Camballo see that 
watch is well 
kept. 



1—1 om. in Ash. ^ ought 

2—3 to whister to the watch Captaine (this nightes gardes assister) : 
then hee to such as walkd the wakings rownd, 
-4 Cambuscan takes the feild, then leaves ^ strives ^ o)u. m Ash. 
'^—'^ Now Chauntioleere (nightes trewe horaloger), 

the poise of his clockes watch at twoe gann sterr, to measure, 
s— 8 in quierlie full voice, dales approch discoures : 
yet snugg binn the}' in cabins, one by one, 
for fleagm was yet in domination. 

Nathles Cambuscan, with his son Cambell, 
oft rose to see if th'ost watchd ill or well, 
of dewe it takinge to Officious cure, 
the greater place hath greater paines t'endure. 
9 that 1^ onward ii vp calld 



It is Spring ; 



flowers are open, 
trees in blossom, 



74: The fresh Spring time. The Army to march. [Pt. VL 

^ vv/^/cli promisd raigne ear niglit or flatuous stormej-'- 

2 so clomb the humid Crahb, all vernishinge 

with florent bewties of the wanton springe,^ 16 

in Joues exaltate court, wheare best ^beesemis 

Floraes freshe bowres, weare alP that sweet and greene is 

*on thin stalkes, danglinge white, redd, yello, blewe, 

trees in large liveries blusshinge blossoms newe, 20 

dewd with pearld egiette^, openinge finest pores, 

in roote, rind, leafe, flower, riche of amber stores, 

which fertil zephirs velvet spirit bloweth, 

no subtile eye dicerninge how it groweth ; 24 

yet ioienge their liefer poesies of the time, 

richelie perfumd with coolinge eglentine.* 

^ISTow though the rathe had her^ bare leafe and 

grasse, 
and thearefore hard and skant for hostes to passe, 28 

There is no corn till Ceres ripened ^had her mellowe graine 
that well mote tharmies foragers sustaine. 

Cambuscan yet, t'advaunce his expedition, 
held all times equal on equal condition, 
but heere betwixt him and his enimies, 
conditions like did not alike arise, *5 

tiio' hostile Fregi- '^sithe they biuu furnishd of last yeers provision 
wJiich. this yeere shoold rest at his prohibition."^ 



eglantine fra- 
grant. 



32 



^" whearefore " (quoth hee), 
feild ; 



' wellcomm^ 



36 
redd mars his 



1—1 raine thretning^ to the dale, Or windie storme ; 

2—2 when hee close to the liquid Crab did cling6% 

to blaze the full grown bewties of the spring*?, 

^—3 now beeseemis that Flora flaunt*?^ in all that 

*— * 8 Imes om. hi Ash. 

^—^ howbeet, vers rath, yeild<?s but 

^— ^ hath her sheaffes of graine, 

all foragers of armies to sustaine. 

Yet Idng^ Cambuscan, in his expeditions, 
laid hold on all times and on all condicions, 
as him behovd to seeke his enimies, 
so on all termes to fight for honors prize ; 
'^— 7 oj}i^ i^i Ash. 
s— 8 said thearefore, "'Wellcom now" 



Pt. VI.] Cambuscan's Army is marshald. 



75 



Cambuscaii re- 
solves to shave tlie 
havdships of war. 



52 



The Trumpets 
call. 



Camballo mar- 
shals the host, 



^biit pleasures, home sportes, ease, stand yee exild; 

and wellconi leager, wheare harslie soldierie 

hathe to make vertewe of necessitie.^ 40 

^ne bee it ever sayd I so lovd life, 

as kinglie virtue durst not cope with strife ; 

Weare armor, daungers runn for such a v^ife, (f. w) 

and, for the boies sake, fetch in Algarsife ; 44 

ne let posteritie vaunt he had Love, 

whome zeale to truith and iustice could not move." 

ffrom this discourse the trumpetes bootie cella 
sommond Cambuscan soone to leave his pilla,^ 48 

^for thundringe Drums calld hastelie to th' feild^ 
all glistringe Steele cotes, pikes, shott, speare, and sheild, 
whome bold Camballo marshelld to attends 
his roial ffathers pleasure,* stale or wend ; 
^whoe soone came armd in bright enchaced Steele, 
from the gold caske downe to the silverne heele, 
blasinge his owne cote amor on his brest ; 
highe mounted on Ducello, goodlie beast, 56 

that wonder was to see, great Cambuscan, 
fore whome Love, honor, reverence, quicklie rann.^ 

^Hee theare foorthwith committed to the Queene^ 
the cittie Serra with ites large confine, 60 

from sea to sea, to rest at her direction, 
^with's daughter Canac,^ vnder her protection, 
to counsell, ^gard, and watch ^ in his absence, 
^^in exercise,^^ without soft indulgence, 64 

11 "ne suffringe tharroe heades of meltinge lust 

T'affix in yee the skarrs of direfull rust ^^^ 



Cambuscan rides 
armd on the Horse 
of Brass. 



' p« Queene ?s 
reffent of Serra 
and of Canac.^ 



i~i ease, pleasures, idlenes, packi?, hence exild : 

to th' Leager now, whear<9 harshest soldierie, 

proves necessarie gainst extremitie. 

2—2 8 lines om. in Ash. 

3—3 When 16, the thundringe drumes calld to th' field 

4 -vviu iQ 5—5 (J lines om. i/i Ash, 

6—6 Whoe foorthwith did committ vnto his Queene 

^—7 om. in Ash. ^—^ with his deere Canace ^~^ comfort, gard 

10—10 aii(j t' exercise ii— ii om. in Ash. 



7G Cambuscan sets his Kingdom in order, [Pt. VL 

^hopinge yee will doe all your mother willetli," 

so welP to doe her will liis will fulfilleth. Q^ 

2 Obedient Canac, yeeldinge thearevnto, 
admitted, what nature liste not,^ Love cann doe. 
^ ciisc:pune for ^Eesides, hee tooke strict order instantlie, 

common saf.'j/,^ 

Beacons are re- that all the landes highe beakens, farr and nye, 72 

built and mannd; 

as well the promontories neere the seaes, 

-which have to sende theire foresight backe to these, 

shoold, with all speede, bee well reedifyed, 

and with gardes faithfull and good watche supplied, 76 

and all thold Garrisons to bee reviewd, 

and with younge able-bodies bee neuewd ; 

his loiall subiectes, younge, old, midle, and all 

depots of reserves traind soldiers, to bee at ann howers call ; 80 

his armies to supplye, or home defend, 
as forane or home accidentes bin kennd, 
tendringe them theire stowt ifathers discipline, 
" wJiich best keepes Faerie Lande still youres,and myne." 

provisions pre- So tooke hee Order how his campe and shipps 85 

shoold bee revictualld, ear them starcnes nipps, 

a stand made hjf b' entreatiugo Mauor Lordes, fclkes lesse to fli^e, 

commons renlarge, restore thold colonies, 88 

acornes resowe, ear wrack6^ or common lacke, 
wears to depart, lett natures ffrye goe backe. 

supplies of post- post horse he laid at everie fittinge stade, 

for swift intelligence (states vade invade), 92 

ne woold hee anie faction leave behind 

slye snake, in whome was never love to find.* 

1—1 in hope shee will doe all her mother willeth, and so 
2—2 tho, meeke Canaoe (obedient thearevnto) grauntes that what nature 
cannot ^~^ om. in Ash. 

24 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted : — 

Now Phoebus, having*? clombe vp some degrees 

above thorizont, ioiouslie discries 

faire expedition, glorious chivalrie, 

bold spirit6^5, well limbd, adventrous soldierie, 

resolutelie demeaning^? confidente^, 

and readie to seeke out warres contingentt^^. 



4-4 



Pt. VI.] Camhallo takes leave of his Mother, 77 

"^Tlms stoode tliey readie ranckd^ in martial viewe, The Army is 

ready. 

2 by it was daye, to marcli to Yill Perdieu ;^ . ^ 96 

^Camballo takinge leave of 's mother queene ^cambaii takes 

leaue. 

in filial dutie, as mote well beseeme.^ 

"Whome sliee commaundes, by the powr of a mother, 
^to right her wronges on his false vniuste brother,^ 100 «» iwnorabie 

mother's iniunC' 

whoe grones (shee sayd) for instice to bee donn, o'^Etheita bids 

"^but him shee wills''' doe, like his fathers sonn, Cambaiio 
trulie and^ ius telle, wMch is valientlie, 

but not so to attchive, bidden rather die, 104 rather die than 

fail to ave 
on his brc 
Algarsif. 



. . . 1 , . • i • fail to avenge her 

sithe everie action that trewe mstice wantes on Ms brother 



is onlie proper to vile miscreantes : 
^"but never leese thy right through fraud or feare,^ 
for so woold^^ never valient conquerere ; " 108 

and sithe ^^his fFather a commaunder makes him, 
example t' all the world ^^ best demonstrates him, 
12 yet so as, vnder him, alP^ doe ito lesse, 
not lightlie pardoninge any that transgresse. 112 

i^Hee sayd hee woold. And so the mothers blissinge^^ 
vp tooke him from his knees with teers and kissinge, she Wsses and 

l)l6SSGS llilXl 

sayenge,^* " God blesse thee, boye ! by vertue rise, 
i^and on trewe honors winpjes surmount the skies 1"^^ 116 



all whome the king^, by Camball, strictHe willes 
to purg^ all quarters of such whorish Jilles 
as soone corrupt the Campe, and rott the livers 
of idle- wan ton -fowle diseases givers : 

1—1 and so stand readie rangd 
2—2 to make theire rendevous in Yillperdieu : 
2 ^ls7i. Iiere inserts : — 

wheare all the troopes of horse and foote conioine 

to march thence forward to their<? great designe. 

^— * om. in Ash. 

^~^ Heere Camball tooke leave of his mother Queene, 

with filial baysance, manfullie beeseene ; 

^~^ to right the wronges her donn by his false brother 

''—'^ him thearefore willd ^ that's trulie, 

^—^ and never yeild his right to ^^ did 

11—11 to high commaund his father elates him, bidd^s immitate him, w/iich 

12—12 and that all servings vnder him 

13—13 jjgg vowd hee would. Eight tho the mothers blissing*? 

1* and said i^-i^ not by the courtUe cancker (practick Vice). 



3 Cambuscan cfe 
7iis qiieene doe 
Upartefrom other. ^ 



Tho' lovers, they 
must separate. 



78 Cambuscan bids Ids Queen Mhelta fareioell: [Pt. VI. 

The campe ^ heard this, &i much admird y'^ queene, 
2sweringe shee is not as fond mothers been, 
wliose blind indulgent eies are apt to see 
owne childrens faultes as if all vertews bee. 120 

]^extlie,2 the kinge and Queene, with sadder eye 
then whilome ^wonted, viewd each, mutualie, 
for now^ the thought of partinge did promote 
^a lothe depart, in silent lovers note. 124 

But^ part they muste ; She craves, and*^ liee obaies : 
"^Lovers, by lovers lawes, have no gainesayes."^ 
^yet how the iust^ and trewe brooke separation 
wheare never ^laye, nor ever shall, mutation, 128 

iudge lovers trewe, whoe iustlie lovd and love yet, 
wheather it now bee pittifull to prove it. 
but trew and iust can never so depart 
but that their eithers love hathe eithers hart ; 1 32 

but how love male from iustice part, woold aske, 
trial vppon allmost as hard a taske. 

"Adiew, my faithfull queene," Cambuscan sedd; 
"to deale now for your man I foorth am spedd."^ 136 

But at that word "for," teers of ^^irefuU ire 
fell from her eies, as syntilles flintinge fyer;^^ 
"for"?" (quoth ^1 shee), "I^raie, gainste that false-vniuste"^^ 
boye 

1—1 this heeringe 

2—^ for not so doting<9 as fond mothers weene, • 

when through indulgent eies they nought cann see, 

but childrens Vice as of trew Virtewes gree. Now heere 
2—3 om. in Asli. *— * viewd each other mutualie, for that 

^— ^ that loth depart, w/iich lovers eies denote ; j^i ^ yt 

"^—"^ as lovers, by lovers lawe, have no delaies : ^~^ but how iust maie 
^—9 was, ne cann reside mutation, none but trewe lovers weet, Avhoe 
iustelie loved, yf now yt bee not pittifull to prove yt 

sith near^ the trewe and iust maie so depart, 

but that the both to one entier convert. 

then how this maie from that depart, doth ask<9 

a mistick^ trial of the rarest task^. 

" Adiewe, my faithfull Queene," said Cambuscan, 

" I now am goinge to deale for your man." 
10—10 vengeful! ire sprang^ in her eies, like steeles and fLmies forcd fyer, 
11 said 12 vniust false 



(f. 14 b) 



Cambuscan bids 
Ethelta goodbye. 



Pt. VL] Camhuscaris promise to his Wife. 79 

^my vowes bin resolute, him to destroye : 140 q. Etheita urges 

Cambuscan to slay 

luste are my vowes, my vowes and I bin one ; their son Aigarsif. 

Justice and I beare one communion ;^ 

^I am my selfe, and none cann take mee from her; 

so on that point of Justice restes my honor. ^ 144 

^the prime and end of thinges at me^ must enter, 

for iustice, of the worldes frame is the center ; 

^it is the capital essoine of all ;^ 

for take thence Justice, and ^the world will fall.^ 148 Justice requires it. 

then husband, if heerein wee disagree, 

dishonor makes mee not at all to bee ; 

but, lovinge ^mee, you^ love my iustice too, 

olles you saye one thinge, and annother doe." 152 

^On this hard sympathie Cambuscan stayd, ^ hard concUfAons 

in loveJ 

yet, kindlie smilinge on her, thus he sayd :^ 

*'most deere and lovinge wife, I kindlie yeeld ; cambuscan pm- 

^my love shalP of your iustice bee the sheild, 156 her Justice witii 

10 and I wilPO ^qq jq^ right, or I will dye ; 

Instill yeeldinge, by loves right, t'^^ your Justice hye. 

Yet so as wisdome, ^'^holdinge our loves rother,^^ 

wee lovinglie and iustelie yeeld t'^^ each other, 160 

"^"^w/i^'ch well may vaunce bothe youres and my designe, 

if wee bee not bothe angrie at one time."^^ 

This satisfied the glorious ^^ queene right well, 

^^^and pleasd th' whole armie, ioyenge it to tell. 164 

but^^ Canac could not but this processe feare, canace pleads 

I'^and after roundinge^"^ Camball in his eare, 

1—1 whome all mine hestes, resolute are to destroie ; 
for such my vowes are. vowes and I are one, 
both iustelie making*? one communion ; 
2—2 07)1. in Ash. 
2—3 at w/wch, the prime and end of thhiges 
*— * the fountaine capital in general : ^— ^ all truith must fall. 

^—^ truith yee ''— ^ om. in Ash. 

^— ^ At w/^ich hard sympathie, kinge Cambuscan, 
with sadlie smiling^ on her, thus began ; 
9_9 j^y trewe love, i<^— ^^ so will I ii— ii in yeildinge loves right to 
12—12 jiold Loves mutual rother, ^^ to 14— 14 ^^^^ ^.^ j^gj^^ 15 angrie 
i*^— IS and doerd the host, whoe nought but theareof tell. Yet 
17—17 and theareof rounded 



3 Canac parteth 
on hard termes 
from her mother fi 

She begs for- 
g'iveness for 
Algavsif. 



80 Canaces dispute loith her Mother Elhelta, [Pt. VI. 

in hojje to mollifie a^ soldiers hart, 

with tender pittie (^ Loves sweet e woundinge dart), 168 

meeklie contested with her mother, sayeinge:^ 

^^I (vnder protestation of obayenge) 
to you, deere mother, and^ your highe designes, 
doe begg most humbhe, ^y' woold vouch safe my lines, 
and, on^ my knees (if possiblie^ it bee), 173 

if not for '^your Algarsife, yet for mee, 
forgive^ his life. If I live, lett him live, 
so may wee bothe live-yf you him forgive." 176 

su^^qJ) (quoth the queene), ^'Justice muste first bee 
donn."s 

^' 6 then " (sayd^ Canac), " wheare is Loue becom??^ % " 

io"]N[q" (qucth the queene), "Justice muste first bee 

served. "10 179 

"6 then" (sayd^^ Canac), "mercie wilbee sterv^ed." 
i2'i]\^o" (quoth the queene), "Justice must first bee 
showen."^^ 

" 6 then " (sayd^^ Canac), " wheare is pitties throne % " 

i^"No" (quoth the queene), "Justice betraide con- 

foundeth."i4 i83 

^^ 6 then " (^^sayd Canac), " how ist grace aboundethf^' 
*'l!^o" (quoth 1-^ the queene), ^^ Justice must highest 
raigne." 
. favour. " 6 then " (i^said Canac), ^^ what maie favor gayne % " 

" x^o " (quoth 1*^ the queene), " Justice hathe no remis- 
sion." 187 
" 6 then " (sayd^^ Canac), ''what is Zeales condition^' 

1 his 
2—2 dulhng^ rigors dart, then with her mother thus contested, sayinge, 

3—3 



Q. Etiielta de- 
mands Justice on 
him. 



Canace pleads for 
grace 



om. in Ash. ^ in ^—^ you woold read my lines, on both 

^ possible ''—'^ Algarsif(9, at least for mee, to pardn 

8-8 "jSTo," said the Queene, -'first iustice shalbee donn.'' ^ quoth 

10—10 "jsq-Q," said the Queene, " first iustice must be served." ^^ quoth 

12-12 <«No/' said the Queene, "first iustice must bee showen." ^^ quoth 

14—14 '<No," said the Queene, -'eUes iustice woold bee drownd." 

15-15 quoth Canace, "how doth Grace abound?" "No," said 

16-16 quoth Canace, " whoe shall pardon gaine ? " " No," said 

17 quoth 



Pt. VI.] What is Algarsifes Punishment to be? 81 

" !N"o" (quofch^ the queene), "Love dies, Justice provokd." Q. Etheita and 

1 )j Canace still dis- 

"^6 tnen ' (sayd Canac), "promise is revokd. 190 puteastohow 

, Algarsife should 

" iN (quoth the queene), "Justice wrongd loveth bepunisht. 
none.'* 

" 6 yet" (said Canac), '^ lett them ioine in one." 192 
" IN'o " (quoth the queene), " Justice must b' satisfyed."^ 

" 6 then" (sayd^ Canac), " wee muste rimn to hyde." 
**]Sro" (quoth* the queene), "Justice predominates." 

" 6 yet" (said^ Canac), "Love more honorates." 196 
"No" (quoth^ the queene), "Justice must have her 
waye." 

" 6 then" (sayd^ Canac), " Patience must obaye. canace always 

if mercie, pittie, love, note Justice move, 
^wellcomm sweete death that dies of hurtes love 1 " 200 
and tho^ shee wept, to water of the well, 
praienge^ her fFather otherwise to dell, 
i^in that her mother stoode so resolute, 
as litle waienge her dispute or suite. 204 

Wheareat th' whole host with pittie foorth was n the gueene much 

T 1 A admired by the 

powred,io ^^^^^^ 

while twixt them bothe the kinge stood, as devowred 
and muche distrained in his noble hart ; 
whoe,^2 takinge Canac by the hand apart, 208 cambuscan gives 

, .T , J,,. -no- •!,. Canace his de- 

gave her the tenor of his mmd^^ m wnghtmge, cision in writing, 

saienge,!* " I trust thee with ite^ faithf ull keepinge, ws d^eputy.^^ ^*^^' 

i^and so^^ farewell, my lovelie daughter deere ; 
bee in my absence my^^ exequutore; " 212 

^ said 
2—2 «'0 then," quoth Canace, "promises are brokd." 

" No," said the Queene, " wrongd iustice loveth none." 
" O yet," quoth Canace, " let them both bee one." 
"No," said the Queene, "bee iustice satisfied." 
3 quoth 4 said ^ quoth ^ g^id 7 quoth 
^-s thrice wellcom death, that gladdest dies of love." and theare 
^ tho praid 
10—10 ^]jg^ ye^ }jgj, mother doth, so resolute, 

as gett/9^ no hope to this too weake dispute. 
Wheareat the Host with pittie out was powrd, 
11-11 om, in AsJi, 12 till i^ will i^ and said i^-i^ so now i^ mine 
LANE. Q 



Cambuscan talces 
leave of his 
Queeiij Ethel. 



3 a great contest' 
ation.^ 



(f. 15) 



82 Cambuscan takes leave of Wife and JDaugUer, [Pt. VI. 

1 whome oft hee Idssd. Then, tnrninge to the 
queeiie, 

hee tooke his leave, as noblie garni bees.eeme,i 

and prayd them bothe, that gainst his home repaire, 

2 they will see fiirnishd his new Theataier. 216 
ITow at their partinge^ all the soldiers lowted, 

and to the qiieene, so lowd, and Canac, showted, 
as heaun and earth "^it seemd weare ioind togeather 
by truith, love, iustice, in this liarshe dissever.^ 220 
the queene they reverencd, Canac lovd^ also \ 
but wheather moste, was verie hard to sho.*^ 
yet, commonlie, that suitor soner'^ swaieth 
whose instant importunitie more^ praieth. 224 

^the soldiers, cleapinge them bothe mistresses, 
had^ gott their colord skarfes in readines. 
Canacies ^^colors, white, weare th'^^ feild or ground, 
the Queenes ^^ blood redd, w/iz'ch still betokeneth 
wound ;ii . • 228 

^^redd bendes on white, impaeld, as heraultes saye, 
nieanes iustice hathe on innocence to swaye.^^ 

How bin^^ the Queene and Canac faringe home, 
i^wheare the meeke Canac made t' lier falcon mone ; 
shee backe replienge, in her birdishe leaden, 233 

and Canac, by her virtuous ringe, it readen. 
So either t' either wailed each destanie, 
like^^ fellowe sisters, of like miserie, 236 



The soldiers wear 
red and white 
skarfs. 



Q. Ethel and 
Canace go home. 



1—1 then turning6^ kindlie to his noble Queene, 

he tooke his last leave as mote best beeseeme, 
2—2 they woold see finishd his faire Theataire. At whose departure, 

2—3 om. in Ash. 
^— * seemd to disione from either b}^ loves and iustices entier dissever. 

^ lovd Canace ^ kno ^ soonest ^ most 
^"9 both whome the soldiers cleapd theire mistresses, and 
10-10 ^vhite had for the ii— n had redd, betokening!? death, or wound. 
12—12 Q^),^^ if^ Ash. 1^ are 

14—14 wheare Canace to her Falcon maketh mone, 
and shee in her 'bhd.es leaden oft replieng6^, 
add('\v woe to woe, thone sighing^, thother crying*?, 
bewailing*? t' either, cithers destanie : as 



Pt. VI.3 Cambuscans Army begins its March. 



83 



Caiiace mourns 
with her Falcon, 



but works with 
her needle. 



2 army marcheth.^ 



It is a huge orderd 
mass. 



1 wAi'cli found some ease in vttringe eithers grief e : 

this of lier tercelet, that of Algarsife ; 

bothe drinckinge comfortes out of future hope, 

yet halsiond bothe hartes broke, if hope no cope, 240 

Heere leave wee Canac, but not leave her idle, 
sithe bounde her handed apprentice to her needle ; 
to wittnesse to it selfe, suche linger glorie 
annother dale mote gratifye her storie. 244 

Then all the soldiers, followinge the warrs, 

gave dewe attendaunce on their officers;^ 

^a thowsand stowborne drums- tonitruous 

mad th' aiers affable vault redd mars his house, 248 

v^rheare suche ann vniuersal march declard 

as of all bodies f ramd one Corps du gard ; 

seeminge a confusd-civile wildernes, 

ann heape disparted, ann huge ordered masse, 252 

a feild of loitringe woodes, straglinge behind, 

soone calld vp into one by disciphne. 

a bee hive seekinge out, yet keepinge home, 

dares forane illes annoy, make good iies owne. 256 

a faire of leapinge coltes, or'e hedge and ditche, 

soone rendred, by strict reasons lore, none suche. ^ 

^a goodlie order ^ of as martial men well discipiind. 

^as ear arose gainste Titans^ glistringe bem, 260 

^whoe kept one distance^ regular; in march 

■^ne doffinge armors, albeet sonns ray parch ; 

for armes to have in warr,"^ and still not vse yt, 

1—1 the both distraind as by one common griefe : 
this for her Tercelet, that for Algarsif<9. 
Yet both with future hopes both comforting^, 
for hartes maie breake, but for hopes remedingd. 
Canacies selfe remaining^ never idle, 
but, bindings her hand prentice to her needle, 
beard wittnes to her selfe, that such hand glorie 
annother dale maie dignifie her storie. 

This while, the soldiers (exercisd for warres) 

stoode readie rangd t'attend theire Officers, 

2—2 am., in Ash. ^— ^ 12 Imes oni. in Ash, *— * as orderlie and 

^—^ as ever rose gainst Phoebus ^—^ ann habit keepinge 

T— T wAich dolfd no armors, though hott Titan parch ; for armor t' have in feild, 

G 2 



84 The 3 Divisions of Camhuscan s Army. [Pt. VI. 

^besides tli' abuse, presumes^ as to refuse yt. 264 

^lace? The place, a goodlie champion to ^darraigne 

Hills and plain three hostos, consistinge of hkhe^ hiWes aud plaine, 

llkeAmesbuiy, . ' o & r ? 

like th' ample lantskipps of old Amesburie, 
where Arthur beat wheare mightie Arthur (flowr of chevalrie) 268 

the Saxons. i • i i 

by knightlie prowesse, in disposd^ battelks 
(t'^ old Olbions wellfare), ^heapes of Saxons quelles, 
deigninge them in those barrowes sepulture,^ 
to th' onor of his kind^ good swoord Mordure. 272 

^Theare, theare, three squares of vibrant pikes out 



ranckes after ran ekes with muskett&9 on bothe sides, 
•border of }yiarc7i.^ as winges to flyc, to putt off and putt on 

the prime of schirmishe, till freshe secondes com??^. 276 
each colors midd owne cohort in battaile, 
neerest the hart, furthest from foes assaile, 
best garded, with short weapons, holberde^', billc'^, 
swoordes, targettes, handle to defend neere iWes,^ 280 
'^0 three battaues. ^^Trustie Biuato^^ lodd the first battaile, 
Binato heads the ^^ whose w^ell ^^gardcd rear theare went-"^ m taue 
^^'^^' some light ^^feild peeces, on wheele carriages, 

readie to doe theire masters services. ^^ 284 

Camhuscan tiie The seconde-midle-mightie square battaile 
was by Cambuscans selfe lodd to assaile, 
and at his reare the great artillerie 
of Canons and demies, for batterie, 288 

i^on iron carriages, as huge as stronge, 
to tell and prove their masters minde ear Ion go. ^''^ 
rear.16 The third battaile, or Eeare, Camballo ledd, 

i—i presumes beside tliabuse ^ om. m As7i. 

■^— ^ did darraigne, all those three battailes, spreddinge 
4 darraignd ^ to 

<^-^' Saxon heapes debelks: and in those barrowes deignd them sepulture, 
'' known ^—^ 8 lines om. in Ash. ^~^ oni. in Ash. ^^-^^ oni. in Ash. 
J 1-11 Heere yonckster Binat<? 12—12 ordered rear^, theare came 

13—13 wheele peeces on feild carriages, to doe theire masters instant 
services. 

14 om. in Ash. 1^— ^^ om. in Ash. ^^ om. in Ash. 



Pt. VL] Artillery and Cavalry. Popular Opinion. 85 

w/^/cli, as the former twaine, was discipled ; 292 

in whose reare also weare some canons born, canons and Bag- 

gage in the rear. 
^with bagg, baggage, munition, victual, corn.^ 

^th' officers well clirectinge t' keepe good gard, 

all, in good order gaided, onwardes faerd.^ 296 

The troopes of horse, before, behind, theare, heere, ^ ^ors troopes? 

^speculates all* approches, farr and neere. 

^but hee that this dale leader that^ battailes reare, TheCavairy 

_ _ cliange places by 

tomorrowe m the ^vauntgardes place dothe steare; 300 'Threes about.' 

all three, by chaunginge turnes, of ^ marchinge la we, 

till bothe extreames into niidle'' drawe. 

^the reare Yet of as valient ones yledd, (f. isb) 

furnishd, trusted, honord, as th' vantgardes liead.^ 304 

^onlie the kinges owne standard, fore and hind, 

bore twoe gewles-cressletes,^ feild albe, in the wind. 

i^The vulgar, havinge gott t' ann higher place, ^^^ vulgar never 

, MdetJi itti 

to see this armies march, to their solace, ^■'- 308 opmion.'^'i 

i^twixt ioye and care, gann sadlie contemplate 

thus, and thus, as it felP^ into their pate. 

13 Some swore it was a goodlie slaverie,^^ 

by fame, lawes, kinges, ^^to seeke deathes braverye. 312 

Others sayd, sighiiige, " All these gallanted heere 

wilbee^'* full cold in graves ear fyftie yeere." 

1^ Others esteemd them f ooles whoe trott from They think fight- 
ing is foolery. 

home 
to gett annothers and to^^^ leese their own. 316 

1—1 munition, engins, baggage, Victual, corn 
2—2 o})i. in Ash. ^—^ om. in Ash. ^— * did speculate 

6—5 wheare hee tliat now onleadc^s the 

^— ^ vauntgard hath to steare, changing^? all three by turnes of th' 
'' the midle ^—^ om.. in Ash. 

9—9 wheare? the kinges standard, midle, fore, and hind, twoe creslettt^*? 
gewles had, 

10—10 Q^j^^ irj^ jlgj^^ 11—11 ^,^„_ ^,^ j[,j;^_ 

12—12 wheareof the vulgar gravelie contemplate, as vppon sight doth fall 

13—13 some swearings yt a glorious slaverie, 

14—14 Qi^i; iq ijgg iq^ ^q ^Iq . Q^T^^ others sighing^ said, that all thease heere? 
woold lie 

15—15 ^Yid others calld them fooles that goe from home, to gett from others, 
while theie 



86 Folks Arguments for and against War. [Pt. VI. 



The Vulgar dis- 
cuss War. 



Pleasure ivS best ; 
•vvar, folly. 



No, Pleasure is 
unstable ; 



to hunt for it is 
senseless. 



Reason is above 
Pleasure. 



320 



324 



mother some sayd, "Mans whole liefe ellcs is nought^ 

then warrfare in all ages, to bee fought, 

and that, to leese this liefe for^ vertue, gaines 

a better liefe to recompence all paines." 

^Others held that this lives pleasures bin best, 

and fooles are they wlioe^ hazard it in iest. 

^ Other some swore, that so to saye turn fooles, 

and offred^ to dispute the point in schooles. 

'Mfor'' (quoth^ one), ''this lifes pleasures bin^ vn- 

stable : 
Ergo,^ this whole lifes matter^ is moveable, 
^but I that matter 9 hold more honorable 
w/^^chl^ in it selfe is firme, not permutable. 
i^but to bee mutable-^ is not forever : 
i^Ergo, time cann this lives pleasures dissever, 
now then to hunt for Avhat longe cannot last 
is (by your leave) a chaunce for fooles to cast. 
E contra, what all pleasures dothe containe 
is greater, so is pleasures soveraigne. 
i^reasn (or th' soules essence) is that same container 
Whome sense vsurpes, when will letters sense distrain e 

her: 13 336 

but not constraine her, for sense wanted that powr 
i^of rulinge or'e iies next superioure, 
but by consent, to sensative temptation 
reasn' her may yeeld, to discend b' immitation : 340 
howbee't may chouse of wise predignitie,^^ 



328 



332 



some soberer vouchd that mans whole lief^ is nought 



but wee that centar 



1—1 

3—3 ^Q^JX others held lief<?5 sensive sweet*?.? the best, and termd them fooles, that 

'^-* some wiser swore, that so to hold are fooles, and profered 

^ said 6 are ^ thearefore ^ centar 

10 that 11—11 sith mutable in it self;? 

12—12 ti^i^e thearefore heere lief<?5 pleasures hath to sever, 

13—13 then reas'n, w/wch is the soule, is that container 

whome sense vsurpes, when sensives doe distraine her ; 
14—14 as of flesh, t'orerule her superioure, 

but by consent, for to illecebration 

reas'n hath to stand or fall by immitation. 

w/^ich is to cliowse of wisdomes dignitie, 



Pt. VL] The Pleasures of Mernity and Mortality. 87 



inscribd in reasons superioritie. 

^ ffor reas'n, or wilier materialitie, 

is til' essense it liatlie of eternitie.^ 344 

^elle^ nought it coulde of virtuous constancie, 

wear't not essentializd eternitie, 

tlien looke what once was of eternitie 

hath still to b' bove times continuitie.^ 348 

2 but this etern'ti's of th' first cause of causes : " 

so theare on that full point a while liee pawses. 

"ISTow, looke, what is of thigh'st eternitie^ 

officiates bove lifes mutabilitie. 352 

^so, looke what's^ of eternal coessence 

^ ought consist of pleasures more excellence 

then th' momentanie-sens'tive. then tis cleere 

lifes pleasures-sensative cloe chauiige each yeere. 356 

but th' soules pleasures, eternal bin, like her,*^ 

fetcht fro th' first cause of causes : w/u'ch t'^ averr 

is manifest, for '^reasonable thinges 

sucke"^ from one higher-causinge-cause beinges. 360 

Then, as the^ first cause is all pleasures store, 

I sweare, th' eternal pleasures are much more 

^then caduke-pleasures-sensative of life,^ 

for w/zich fond men sett no boundes to their strife. 364 

^^But reasn' (wills moth'r) is of the highest hie ; 

elks mote it near dispute, ne higher flye^^ 



Reason is eternal. 



and above life's 
changes ; 



its pleasnres are 
greater than those 
of life, 



for which foolish 
men strive. 



3-3 



i~i w7wch is the real soules pure essensie, 
is thearefore real of eternitie : 

^~2 4 lines om,. in Ash. 
eternal beinge of th' firs[t]e cause of causes ; '^ 
so theare a while vppon that point hee pawses. 
" Now, looke, what is of th' prime eternitie 
*— * and what is 
S--5 must need^6' of pleasures have more excellence 
and permanence then sensives ; for tis cleere 
hefes pleasures sensive chaung^ from yeare to year*? ; 
but the soules pleasure ternal is with her, 
^ to ''""'' all inferior thinges hnve 
8 that ^—^ then all fraile pleasures of this sensive lief^, 

10—10 ]ju{; i\^Q goul reas'nabl' is of thighest hie, . 
idlles yt could necive dispute nor higher stie, 



88 The Army discuss Algarsifes Puniskment. [Pt. VI . 

^tlien tlie life sensative, w/r/cli fades belowe. 
Reason is above But reasn' ascend65 above what sense maie knowe, 368 

the things of ^ 

sense. ev 11 Dove th' earth, seas, aier, ner, niooiij soniijStarrs, skye, 

(wheare everie thinge the soules reas'n hath to trye) : 
yea, t' it first causinge cause-divine creator, ^ 
for everie causd cause waiter on lies first ^ maker." 372 

So folk tattle. thus and thus people tatled, they ne wiste ; 

nay, they will talke, lett wise men saye^ as list(?. 

and surelie well it fell,^ they brake off so, 

^sith oft they fall by th' ears before they goe. 376 

The Army, on the In the meaue time th' whole armie,^ as it went, 

march, talk over ,ii, t c ,-\ - t - i i 

the dispute be- toid too and iro the serious bickerment 
anrcanace as to that twixt the Quecue^ and mecke Canacy fell, 
pufrshment. wJiich. posd their iudgment6'5 to consider well 380 

^of Justice sterne and kind Loves natures, ffor 

discordance hath t' make th' one thoth'r abhorr ; 

fEor whoe woold thought but that innocent love^ 

mote som deale '^resolute Justice^ remove, 384 

and softenn yt, by th'importunitie^ 

of her owne^ daughter, begginge instantlie? [sterne, 
(f. 16) i^'^In troth" (quoth they), "Justice is thinge most 

They side with as froui this schoone mote bold offenders learn : 388 
mand'foTjustTce. thoughe sclfc love dccme it hathe with whites of eyes 

to bobb oat Justice and her lawes foolize.^^ 

1—1 then hef(9 elemental, changing*? heeve belowe. 

but soules reasn higher sties then lief^ cann knowe, 
bove earth, sea, aier, fier, moone, son, starres and skie, 
olles it bove thease could no conclusion trie, 
but it ascencks bove all to her creator, 
2—2 aucthor." thus talken they of what full fewe well wist, for they will 
speake, lett wise men hold ^ chauncd 

4--^ for seld is, but by th' eares opinions goe. On w7iich Occurrente^ 
th'armie ^ sterne Queene 

6—6 of lustice and Loves natures, how thease twaine 
maie through disconcordance each other araign. 
sith fewe would thought, but that this hurtles Love 
7-7 iustice resolute ^ by importunitie ^ j^j^^^ 

10—10 ygt heere they found by proof^^ iustice is stearn, 
as bold Offenders by theas sceanes maie learn ; 
though some of self*? love deign with fawninge eye 
bobb iustice out, with prowd humilitie : 



Pt. VI.] Cambitscans Army halt and encamp, 89 

as if rules weare no rules, ne^ givn to keepe^ The Army think 

,,,,. ,. .p r,c\c\ liypocrites should 

2 but mote bee pardond t nipocnntes, it weepe : 392 not be pardond. 

for ravishd sighes, of fjrbal strain es, of mone, 

vttred to gett leave to b' as badd anone j^ 

presuminge as if Justice weare vnwise, 

ne could of ^scopes or circumstante^ devise,^ 396 

of whie] whenl wbearel how oft the crimes* weare 

donn? 
^or wittingelie, naye willingly e, begunni 
But wittinglie and willinglie been suche^ 
as iustice findes their endes, not differinge much." 400 
^Whence these bold soldiers (as they weare in raye)^ They how with 
professd they ^woold evn so'^ hold on theire waye, 
as not vniustelie tempt the queenes ^highe powr, 
ne thincke they mote with ease appease her lowr. 404 

So all agreed, till, marchinge, they weare bayd 9 lodging o/y^ 

at a diepe foord, wheare for some time they stayd. 
and theare Cambuscan, lightinge from his stead, cambuscan dis- 

off^ drew the bridell from his brazen head, 408 the brid'ie onus 

i^and wore it for a girdle ^^ bout his midle ; round his wai!t. 

^^it was his guize when rest gave leave to idle. 
Soone binn they quartered, cabbins made in haste ; ^^ 
Campe and trench masters ^^fortefies all faste.^^ 412 TheCampis 

1 . • 1 o 1 J 1 , . fortified. 

they goe to praier, i^and then prepare to meate 

(the coole eveninge requittinge^^ the dales heate) ; 

1 nor 
2—2 "but must to counterfeat^s yield, when they creepe, 
with sighinge pinions, made of parboild mone, 
coggd but for leave to bee as wurse anone. 
2—2 circumstances scopes devise, ^ fault<?s 

5—6 yf weetinglie or willinglie begun, 

w/wch weetingelie and willinglie are such 
^-^ thease soldiers, thearefore, as they kept theirs ray, 7— 7 go would still 
8—8 stearn powre, or as at list, they could out begg her lowre. 
Thus marchings, they agreed, till all weare staid 
at a diepe rivers foord, w/iich backe them baid, 
whear*? lunge Cambuscan, lightinge off his stead, with 
^—^ 07}i, in Ash. lo— lo jj^^jj f^j. a_ girdle wore it 
^^—11 as earst envrd, yet never worn in idle. 

tho quartering^, fell to cabining^ in hast, 
12—12 fortifie as fast ; is— is Hiq^ adresse to meate, the coole neve recompensing^? 



90 Camhuscaris Army at Exercise in Camp. [Pt. VI. 

-^ watch set}' calM is the watcli, out skowtes, ^and gardes binn sett, 
while Caniball of the^ General dothe fett 416 

Tiie Wiitcinvord ^the secret watchword, Paramonre, w/^^ch hee 

is Paramour. 

impartes but^ to the gard (sworne trewe to bee). 
^Tho, murninge Phoebus, robd in humid sable 
(Who, since these warrs, near lookd vj} amiable), 420 
dismissd his coache and horses to the stable, 
n'is longer ope to hold his eyelidde^ able ; 
The Sun puts on but douGS thc^ night capp of a russet clowd, 

his night-cap. 

w/^^ch miste or raine ^of the next morne foreshowd. 424 



and make their 
blood stir. 



while lustie soldiers, for youthes exercise,^ 
The Soldiers in- rann, wrastlcd, iumpd, leapd, from a giuff6\9 arise ; 

dulge in Atliletics, 

^sonie from ami halfe pike, and removd it twice. 427 
some tossd theire pikes, some stayd, some pushd a trice ;^ 
some threwe the barr with th' arme, some with the foote; 
■^some flunge the maine stone, some to lifte fell toot, 
to improve their bothc to gett wiude"^ at will and masterie, 

and by muche vse, powrful dexteritie. 432 

^activitie, breedinge agilitie, 

frolickes the witt, the spiritte.9 multiplie, 

boldninge hott hartes, makes life blood swiftlie goe, 

when once these active doe owne forces kno.^ 436 

^Campes mote of suche their modest concertation, 

practise a kind of virtuous emulation,^ 



1—^ om. i7i Ash. 2— 2 ggj^t, gard^5 are sett, and Cambell of his 
2—2 this secret watchword Puramoure, wJiiGh hee distribut<?5 
4-4 By this time Phoebus, wrapt in liquid sable, 

whoe since thease garboiles near lookd amiable, 

loosd his blacks coach and stead^s adown the wave, 

then longer ope to hold his lid^es ne strave, 

but dond his 
5—5 the morrowe next foreshowd, 

the while some yoncksters, for praisd masteries, 
^—^ som from the pike, and twice aloft removd jt^ 

som tossd, som mad<? faire presenti?^, and som sbovd it, 
'^— ^ som the maine stone, some waight^s to lift stoopd too't, 

long^ breath to gett 

8—^ 4 lines om. in Ash. 
^-'■^ well knowing*?, vigor growes by concertation, 

find virtewe by a virtuous emulation : 



Pt. VIT.] CambuscarHs Army sleep ^ then rise. 91 

^selfe mendinge selfe, by so mucli the more able, 

as nerves by practise lustren serviceable ; 440 

without grudge donn, or envious mutinie, ah is do!)e in 

w/l^ch well lomes gamste the common enimye.^ 

2L6 thus (in frendlie sort) these troopes contend, 443 

till th' watch bidden leave, goe rest, and make ann end.^ Then off to bed. 

Canto Septimo. Part vii. 

Algarsif^ rewes the stirrs that rose ; Aii?a.-sireand 

the witch Yideria turnes his mind ; 
Camball and ^hee fought deadlie foes;^ cambuseanbe- 

Cambuscan, Akafir, ^the town inhemd.^ " 

^The wakefuU larck^, whose madrigal gann vse aiimio.^ 

to chaunt shrill laies ear daye, now dumps in muse, 
for Titan, the mornes melancholie murner, Movnins comes 

sadd, hevie, wilesse, mute, vncheerful iorner, 4 ' ' 

noold laminate hills, dales, springes, medowes, woods, 
ne tyne with fierie beame the rapid floode^^ ; 
ne wipe the cleere teeres off the leaves and grasse ; 
ne sucke the mistes breath, to see others passe ; 8 

ne visite his old frendes, whoe for him stayd ; 
whearfore without him tharmie rose and rayd. cai^buscan's 

Now false Algarsife, in great Fregiley, arriy.^^ 

havinge begun a daungerous essay,^ 12 

''a great proiect, a verie straimge designe,^ 

1—1 4 lines om. in Ash. 
2—2 for ^hich thease active spirit^s through love contend, 
till the well meaning!? watch bid mak<9 ann end. 
3—3 Algars fight as foes ^— * Fregilia inhemd ^ om. in AsK 
6—6 The wakefull Larck(9 tewnd not his madrigal, 
but, dull in dumpes, blith would not sing<9 at all, 
ne Titan on woold putt his golden flize, 
but wimpled fast his melancholie eies, 
not with their blaze to tine the cristall flood<9s, 
ne comfort send to the sole faring*? wood^5, 
nor sucke the mist<?5, that others see to passe, 
nor wipe the meeke teeres of Auroraes face, 
ne com down to his frendes, whoe for him staid : 
Whearefore without him tharmie onward wa3'd, 
to seeke Algarsif^, Whoe in Fregiley 
had stirred rebellion, to get all the swaie, 7— ^ om. ht Ash. 



92 Algarsife begins to regret his Rehellion. [Pt. VII. 

^on MvhiGh the world hold ope all ears and eyen/ 
2 omitted nothinge, ne slept out his wittes, 
that to th'occasion opportimelie fitt<S6'. 16 

Ai^arsife in Fre- f or hee, by th' witcli Yideriaes practises, 

giley isinformdby e • 

the Witch videria kepte ofte intelligence with all places, 
in his Father's w7?.«ch brought him everie secret donn, and sedd, 
Camp? ^^ in's ffathers counsell^ chamber, closett, bedd, 20 

in court and campe, in countrie, cittye too, 
yet went his spies, as vsen frendes to doe, 
(f. 16 b) in complemental kind formes generous, 

well knowinge to vsurpe as virtuous. 24 

for, pray, what strength hath sex, what powr the wise, 
w/? ^ch openeth not to potent briberies *? 
He learns that his The uewcs are brought him, that his ffather corns 

Father has come . . 

to wreak ven- gaiuste him With dispiayd Ensigne, trumpetes, drums, 

geauce on him. , _ . . . . ^ „ 

vengeance to wreake on his conspiracie, 29 

wJiich his owne mother taxt at felonye. 
He thinks over Algarsife at these tydinges chawes the cudd, 

his faults. 1 . 1 • 1 1 1 

for nature, natural, wrought m his blood, 32 

of kindlie kind, to thincke what hee hathe donn 
without forgettinge hee's his fathers sonn :^ 

^—1 om. in Ash. 

2—2 and thear^ omitted nought, ne slept his witt<?5, 

in ought that oportunelie him befitt^^. 

for by Videreaes witched polecies, 

hee kept intelligence in court by Spies, 

to brings him everie secret donn and sedd 

within his ffathers Gouncell, Chamber, bed, 

in town and campe, in countrie, cittie too, 

yet his proiectors went as gallant^s doe, 

in complemental kind formes generous, 

to preface like vnto the Virtuous, 

and ope with bounteous hand, to baite the wise, 

according^ to the force of briberies. 

But now his watch him telles, his ifather comes, 

with displaied Ensign, fier, swoord, trumpet, drumes, 

to paie with Vengeance his conspiracie, 

w/wch his own mother taxd at treason hie. 

At whioh harsh newes hee sadlie chawd the cudd, 

as felt in nature that hee taintes own blood. 

vnkindlie kind ; so thinkes what hee hath donn 

to the disgrace of his own ffathr and sonn : 



Pt. VII.] Algarsife laments his Treacherous lievolt. 93 

^for reasn' of propertie, owne good intendes, 

till sensual respect her eye-sight blendes; 36 

whence him withdrawinge to the drawinge chamber, Aigarsife, alone, 

blames his evil 

but to bee further th'eeringe of each straunger, 



hee privatelie stole to a secret grove, 

and theare his lewd fact thus he gann reprove,^ 40 

for, certainlie, theare is no connivence 

2 hides reasons owne muse from owne conscience. 

Then thus Algarsif : ** 6h, whome doest thow drawe ^fruitless wr- 
on thine owne head, hart, reines, liver, and mawe ? 44 
yea, on thyne honor ; JSTaye, land, lief e, and all, 
more ore thie bloodes posteritie totall/' 
tho stoppd, sighd, blusshd, and further thus anon :^ 
ii I my* owne selfe have my^ owne selfe vndon. 48 He has undone 
I have provokd my fFather and my mother ; his Father, 

6 1 have brought down againste mee my stowt brother ; Brother, to lus 

T „ -, ^ T ' 1 own shame. 

and, for my pleasures, vanned my swoord gamste 

them,*^ 
to th' slaunder of all sonns, and shame of men." 52 
that sayd, deiectes him at a tree, and cried, He weeps, 

as if his hart woold breake and theare have dyed. 
7'^ Ah, nature" (quoth hee), ^^as th' ast mee forsaken, 
so in begettinge mee thow seemste mistaken.'' 56 

1—1 so his own reasn (of her more intuent kind) 
permitt^^' no sensive \eties to britch his mind, 
but that hee mote withdrawe to th' drawing/? chamber, 
theare to bee out of heering^ of each stranger, 
and theare to ruminate his present state, 
w^ich now proclaimd diepe daunger at his gate 
whence hee departing^ to a secret grove, 
did thear«? his wicked factious avtefi reprove ; 

2—2 cann from own reason hid*? own conscience. 

Wheare thus, " Ah, whome, Algarsif, doest thow drawe 
vppon thine own head, raines, hart, livr, & mawe ? 
vppon thine honor, lief, death, fame and all I 
Yea on thie blood^^ posteritie total 1 ! " 
and theare hee blushd, sighd pale, till thus anon, 
3_3 ^^^^ ^^^ Ash. * mine ^ mine 

6—6 I have against mee brought down mine own brother, 
I have, for pleasures, lift mine heele gainst them, 
''— ^ out crieng^, '• Nature, 6 th' ast mee forsaken, 
or wast in mee begetting^? quite mistaken. 



Algarsife calls on 
Nature to kill 
him. 



94 Algarsife repents^ and resolves on Submission, [Pt. VII. 

^now mend thy faultes in thy owne workeman- 

shipp, 
correct in mee thy blemisshes ont slipp ;^ 
vnniake my limbes, vntwiste my gniltie liefe, 
and qnickhe ^spatche thy^ grief e-killd Algarsife." 60 
tho snnge hee owne^ deathes dirgis with wett cheere, 
^seeminge to bee^ owne mnrner, coffyn, beere. 
^Thus did hee cruciate^ his sonle with grieefe, 
^as knowings of ites authors hees one chief e ;^ 64 

for none is so disprivie to him selfe 
"^but knowes owne channell, thoughe he rann the 

shelfe. 
Yet of his litle virtue w/u'ch remaines 
hee to his inmost^ reason recomplaines, 68 

and thus proiected in his agonie, 
^humblinge : '^ I wilP repent this villanye, 
sithe to repent dothe dissaffect so farr. 
as cause to no cause nature dothe abhorr. 72 

^sighinge, I. wilP submitt mee to my fFather, 
and thro we my iuste death at his foote^^ for favor; 
i^then, if hee kill mee for m' vntruithes mistake,ii 
^2 perhaps hee 'P^ save his sonn for's feathers sake. 76 
^^so stirr no further warrs, ne colles promo ve,i^ 
then that his mercie have for subiect loue." 
Thus doubt and sorrowe made him hott and^^ drie 
(htt fewell of dispaire, and apt to die), 80 

vntill hee sawe the water of a well 



With the little 
goodness he has 
left, 



he resolves to 
repent. 



nnd submit to his 
Father, 



to stop war, 



and ai)])eal lor 
Mercy. 



1—1 Yf so, thie workemanship in mee correct, 
and what all my corruptions are detect. 
2—2 kill the 2 his ^— ^ hee being his 

6-5 more cruciating^ yet 

^—^ though of iWes authors hee was not the chief*? : 

'^—'^ but knowes truithes channel missd doth run72. the shelf*?, so hee, of th' 
litle grace hee yet retaines, oft to his intuent 
8-8 What yf I doe 

9—9 then I will goe ^^ feete 

11—11 Yf then of iustice hee my lewd lief^ take 
12—12 perhapps will 
13—13 and vrge no further warres ne louve suites move, ^^ cold 



Pt. VIL] AJ(jarsifes Scouts are driven hack to Fregiley, 95 

iwliose draught was longer lifes, like faulted, fullfill. 

But 16, as liee was niakinge this survaie, 
w/w'cli gainste his best fPrendes treason did bewray,^ 84 ^aiammto 
soddainlie the fregiliens rann to armes, 
^and vp and down the streetes in heaps reswarms, 
throtinpre it thus : " Arme, arme, the viand comes 1 '' I'^^e FregUians 

arm, 

tho quicklie to the walks all colors ronns, 88 

garded and way ted by th' whole companies 

of theire owne soldiers, troopinge with supplies ; 

the cause was evident, ffor their skowt watch e,^ for their scouts 

are driven in, 

w/^^ch laye foorth the Cambuscanites to catche, 92 

^weare well fought with and beate* home to the town, 

^all savings them^ weare shortned by the crown ; and some kiiid. 

In so much that all the Fregiliens call They caii for 

ofte^ and againe for their Lorde General ; 96 ° * 

''meaninge in deede"^ theire commaunder in chiefe, 

^whoe then was^ absent, the Prince Algarsife. 

^Hee, wheare hee bode, plaine heard thalarum bell, 
fro th' walles and watch towre these lowd newes foretell ; ^oprivau interest 
which soddaine motion so entind his blood, 101 auti/.^o 

as causd him aye rechawe his moodie cudd ; He reconsiders his 

pp. ,. Q . .^ .1-,. . ., resolve to submit. 

for leirce commotions^ m youth es illious spirit 

needes litle helpe besides it selfe to fyer it, 104 

save companie (the humors torrent streame), 

1—1 wJdoh drinking^ provd his longer lives fullfill. 
but 16, while thus makes of him selfe survaie, 
w/wch treasn against his best frend6^5 did bewraie, 
2—2 Qjj^,^ ly-^. Ash. 
3-3 vp, down the street^^, heer, thear<3, in heapes and swarmes, 
out crienge, "Arme ! arme I for the Viand comes ! " 
each Ensigne thearefor^ to the wall vp runes, 
well garded by th' whole armed companie, 
whoe, troopings closelie, stood fast readelie : 
Yt beings manifest that theire skowt watch, 
*-'- weare (fightinge) beaten back6% ^-5 excepting^ those 

^ too 7—7 hijj^ naming^ 8-8 i\^^^ ^Yiqxi plaid 

9__9 Whoe, wheare hee was, did heere thalarum bell 

thease newes from off the walbi' and watch towre tell, 
th'intestine motive wheareof tind his blood, 
and soone causd to vnchawe his late chawd cud ; 
for prone commotion lO— lo ^,^^^ ;^^^ j^gj^^ 



96 



(f. 17) 



Algarsifes Reasons for Fifflifwrj, [Pt. VII. 

\YliiQh, least ^of any others/ love the meane, 
^tlmndringe : ^'Wownesl blood 1 hoh 1"^ whoe cann 

hold his haiides 
^from sweete revenge, if honor vnderstandes 1 108 

L6 hee, now, whoe late woold him yeild t* his 

fFather, 

castes vppon doubtes, which tottringlie him waver :^ 

^'for" (quoth hee), "should I offer my^ submission, 

I then niuste ^accept of anie condition,^ 112 

as deathe, imprisonment, or bannishment, 

or stand confind, or tyed^ to decrement ; 

or to suche inconveniences bounde, 

as liste the "^ conquerors proiectes propound. 116 

so mote*^ I leese that pleasinge libertie 

^w/nch sensivelie frolicked satietie. 

Againe, should I turne lesse now then to commaunder 

(beinge all readie one), woold bee my slaunder. 120 

but to leese commaund Mvhich^ I have allreadie, 

woold blase base cowardise ^and counsell giddie. 

for^ dothe not everie chiefe, w/iich^^ vnderstandes, 

i^make absolutenes the center of commaunder'? 124 

and to commaund all absolutelie, as chieffe, 

doe they not willingiie runn all mischefe ? 

yea, for that appetite of sole commaunder, 

brooke th' fatale pike of daunger and of slaunder "l^^ 128 

1—1 (the peopl except) still ^~^ tho thundring^, ''blood ! woundes ! " 

3—3 whoe action balkes, that honor vnderstand(?5 ? 

L6, hee that late would yield him to his tfather 
is rapt of passion, and doth thearewith waver ; 
4 him ^"^ needes accept of each condicion, 

^ strippd ''"''' conqueror his termes propound : so should 
8—8 that frolickes sensual satietie, 

againe, shoold I yeild lesse then all commaunder, 
allreadie havings gott yt, proves my slaunder. 
for to give back^ th' commaund 

9—9 policie giddie, sith ^^ that 

11—11 make arbitrarie will centr of commaund<?5 ? 
whear<?, to commaund all absolutelie chiefs, 
doe they not willf ullie all misschief^^ prief^ ? 
and for thambitious stile of all commaunder, 
runn dangers fatal pike, brooke anie slaunder ? 



Algarsife argues 
that if he yields, 



be must accept 
death or exile. 



and lose his 
liberty. 

Also, to give up 
his cominand 
would be cow- 
ardice. 



Pt. VII.] Al(/arsife^s Hesitation. Videreas bad Advice, 97 

^so, to my minde, nought correspond66^ more deere Aigarsife argues 

then to commannd, vncontrold b' any peere.^' 

But hee too well knewe that no opposition 

coold growe, or bee, on indifferent condition. 132 

for whie ? each self e-same thinge, wee plainlie see, 

ne^ disconditionates, but dothe agree. 

2 Whence, wheare no difference lies : ISTo concertation 

nor cause, ne matter is, for emulation. 136 

but emulation 'tis, wee see in sense, 

mote 2 either winn or leese by discordence ; 

^and on suche discordance to conflate faction, 

to bee ^ maintaind by wittes f y tt for suche action. 1 40 

4*^ elks" (quoth hee) ^^I can neither keepe ne gett, against submis- 

. sion to his Fatlier. 

if my plott with my flathers bee lust mett ; 
sithe no twoe-trewe-likes breedes repugnancies,^ 
because in them theare lies^ no contraries." 144 

Yideria, whoe laie "^ close hidd in the grove, ^ a dangerouB 

or'e heard and sawe^ how with him selfe he strove, 
^steppd foorth and sayd : ''Ah, Prince Aigarsife, flye. The witch 
flye, t' offer but^ th' least cause of ielowsye 1 48 Aigarsife 

to these Fregiliens, least yee bee vndon. 

1—1 what then? will, absolute abrode and home, 

male doe what list, and give accompt to none : 

Yea, force infamous tyrannie to write 

all honor, and none dare her once betwite. 

nought thearefor^ in my mind I hold so deer^, 

as absolute commaund withouten Peere. 

But I too well knowe that no opposition 

cann bee, to growe of one entier condicion ; 

for that each self^ same things is plaine to see, near^ 
2—2 Yio difference thearein lieng^ for certation, 

nor cause, ne matter, to stirr emulation ; 

but emulation, all daie proves in sense, must 
^—^ and by that discordance conflate such faction, as is 
4—^ eWes my designes can neither gett ne save, 

Yf my plott with my ffathers evn termes have ; 

for no idemptates breed repugnancies, 
""* are ^~~^ om, in Ash. ^— "^ hidden in this grov<:^, suborning*^, heeres 
8—8 ^vith fitt occasion in a gale of wind, 

theas proiectes dire inspird into his mind ; 

and thus to him said, '* Aigarsife, fie ! o fie ! 

to offer the 
LANE. H 



98 Videreds evil Counsel to Algarsife. [Pt. VIL 



to contimie his 
Rebellion;, 



I^aie,^ rather (sitlie the matter is begunn) 
vse ^ resolution ; proseqimte the same 
^wAzch your^ apologie hathe vndertane. 152 

^I meane that, wheare your ffather s trew & iiist, 
tonr^eiiis vonch you, your fFather's^ vntrewe and vniust, 

Fatlier's injustice, 

his own right; and that your selfe are onlie^ right, hee wronge ; 

^ w7^^ch right to keepe, say yee, ' now hither thronge ; ' 

ne suffer Camball ne Canac to gett 157 

what (by the Lawe of Discent) is your debt. 

But truith and iustice must bee your praetense^ 

to gaine your point ; w7?//ch coyne by eloquence 1 60 

of Lord Apolloes fiowres, so like the white, 

as nycenes selfe may doubt wheather is right, 

to falsify what his & looke what truith hee saith, because he said it. 

Father says, 

deny, dissent, invert, avoid, vpbraid yt; 164 

then, if nyce-false invention hide the trewe, 

and dorr the people, all will runn after you, 

to saye, naie sweare, all's trewe yee saye, & iuste ; 

and so gain his naie, thcyl doc more yet, if they thincke they muste. 

for o, but putt this word (truith) in theire mowth, 169 

and laughe for aye, to heere what lies they soothe \^ 

1 but 2 with 2—3 that thine 

i— * as thus, that wheare thie ffath'r is trew & lust, retort that hee is 
^ in the 
^-^ so force shall skrewe into his right ear long^, 
for truith doth naturalie most folke move, 
thearefore, to plaie with yt shall best behove, 
not suffring6' Camball ne Canace to gett 
what, by discent of lawe, is thine own debt, 
so thus, truith, iustice, must bee thy pretense, 
thine endes to gaine ; Wheareto, coyne eloquence 
of quaint Apolloes flowres, w/iich paint so white, 
as nicenes selfe male doubt w/wch is the right ; 
denie, detract, invert, wrest, forg^, goe by, 
still make him odious : thear^ your game doth lie ; 
for emulation aie that point must ayme, 
it claimes as right, though fraud & force it gaine. 
so then, yf yee vouch false pretense for trewe, 
the people faile not to runn after you, 
to vSaie, naie sweare, all thine is trewe and iust, 
yea, they'l doe more, yf once they see they must, 
for putt but this sly word (truith) in theire mowth, 
and yee will laugh to heere what lies they sootli : 



Pt. VIL] Algarsife follows Videreas had Advice. 99 

^lies which (by ofte orechawinge) tliey belive 

so t' be authorizd by Prince Algarsive. 172 

Besides, you must indulge this seriouslie, videreateiis 

Algarsife to per- 

tbat yee defend their pleasures libertie : ^ suade his foiu he 

so tbat^ all men male chouse, and vse, owne fasshion, their Liberty, 

w/^^ch will drawe hither^ some of everie nation. 176 

for heerein suche a sensive secret lies, 

as men will serve, suche ffreedom7?^ t' have for prize. 

yea, they^ will lend their aydes, & bringe their and so get their 

help. 

treasures, 
^as, naturalie, they best love^ owne pleasures. 180 

Wheareof you^ beinge seizd, and in possession, 
lett not your ffather spare to bringe obsession." 

The Princ, admiringe the vile witches drifte ^Aigarsifes 

plottj 

^(albeet hee found twas her malgenius shift), 184 

resolves s to practise yt, by proclamation, He adopts 

and countenance it, with faire^ protestation : suggestions, 

^^that while hee getter, by her fleshe-monginge fisshinge, 
hees apt to thincke, all com??2s by simplest blissinge. 
So thencefoorthe hee betakes all to that chaunce 189 
w/^tch^^ fortune gives to boldest atchivaunce : 
11 and theareto gann^i his silkenn standard reare, and raises the 

ir>r» Standard of 

w/wch^^ blazd a lion, pard, and prowlmge beare, 192 Revolt. 
in a feild gewles. these ^^ on thigh bullwarcke stowted, (f. i7 b.) 



1-^ w/iich lies, by oft orechawinge, they belive, 
so they b' authoriz'd by prince Algarsiue. 
on whome to woork<? and lewr<? to thy design, 
by fitt baites anglings fooles, sweares all is thine, 
but without them, and their*? madd violence, 
male th' absolutenes leese of preeminence, 
wheareto yee must indulge, and seriously 
maintaine theirs pleasures, pinions, libertie, 
2 as ^ to yee * such ^~^ as they most naturalie smack 

^ yee ^~*^ om. in Ash. 

8—8 (w/wch taught by her malgeneus each bad shift.) resolvd ^ sly 

10 —10 gQ as while makes his gaine by carnal fishings, 

is apt to vaunt all comes by Joues meere blissinge. 

and thus thencefoorth betakes him to that chaunce, 
that 
11—11 wheareto hee did ^^ that ^^ w/iich 

H 2 



100 Camhuscan advances against Fregiley, [Pt. VJL 



Algarsifo will 
fight to the last. 



^ill company is 
not alone.^ 



Circumspection.^ 



Cambuscan gets 
a plan of Fregiley 



and the country 
round. 



9 vantgardes ap- 
pvoch.^ 
Cam.ballo leads. 



11 AJgarsifes 
bravery is redcU^ 



to ridd all fears^ w/^ich^ the fregiliens dowbted, 
^and lett6s them knowe, hee theare^ will them defend, 
accordinge to his embleam, or^ theare end. 196 

^and them encouraging^ to stand their grounder 
as th' chiefest tenure of their citties bounder. 

Theie vowd as muche his fleshe, blood, life may 
doe, 
or make owne cradelles beeres, their homes graves too. 

By this the prudent kinge Cambuscan gatt 201 

ann exact draught, or mapp, of yond proud statt,* 
'^w72^ch to his vie we ofPred her situation, 
with other poletick consideration, 204 

of each hill, river, passage, neereabout ; 
ites havon', and all the seacoast theare without ; 
ites rampiers, buUwarckes, turrett^s, parapett, 
that fortifies the Cittadel besett,^ 208 

^all winch considered well^ and to encroche. 

Camballo leades the vantgardes bold approche;^ 
Binate the midle ward ; and Cambuscan 
^^lodd on the reare.^^ Thus resolute they cam. 212 

i^Algarsife feirce, the foremost in the warrs, 
redd armd in Steele, like a younge other mars,^^ 
^'"^of nervous potence, brawny fleshe and bones 
(to seeke out will and appetite at once), 216 

wore on's right shoulder to the left side hanginge, 
a blood redd skarff, adowne his knee dependinge :'^^ 

1 that 2—2 whome hee assures, that hee ^ and 
*—* and boldlie couragd them to stand theire ground6!5, 
as the chiefs tenure of theirs citties bownd^.9, 

they vowd they would, as much as ]iefe could doe, 
or make own cradles beeres, theirs homes, graves too. 

Yet ear this time, prudent Cambuscan gate 
a mapp, or draught exact, of yond prowd state, 
^— ^ om. in Ash. ^ om. in Ash. '^—'^ 6 lines om. in Ash. 
^—^ of which considering^?, and how yt t' approch, 

hee Camball bidd^^? with his Vauntgard encroch^, 
-9 07?i. in Ash. lo— lo i\^q reareward lod ; n-ii q^^^^ ^^ j^^j^^ 

12—12 Whear^ prince Algarslf^^ foremost in the warres, 
redd armd in Steele, stood as annother ]\Iars. 
13—13 4 lines om. in Ash. 



2 Camballo hi 



Pt. VII. ] Skirmish between Camballo and Algarsife, 101 

laud on his helme a plume of ostridge redd, 

w7^^cll (daimcinge as liee movd) niovinge thretned 220 

twoe tliowsand pikes and shott, ledd by tli' north port, Aigarsife puts 

t' expect in ambushe Camballs first resort. ^ Ambush. 

^Camballoes armor was as bright in showe 
as titans fyerie dart, all eies well knowe ;^ 224 

^wore on his caske a plume of snowe-drivn white, 
with skarff as white as mote the rest enlight ; 
white silverne swoord, and in his hand a pike, 
able as well to pusshe as leade or strike. 228 

nimbler then Aigarsife in spirit and witt, 
poletick eake to glories requisite, 
sendes oute a forlorne hope of readie shott^ 
to serche the f elides and busshie glades remott.* 232 

^But 16, a muskettier th'alarum gave, 
for havinge discried in ann hollowe cave 
manie Fregiliens, w/n'ch in ambushe laie, 
salutes their worshipps with an whole voUeye ; 236 
so soldierlike retierd. Whence Aigarsife 
boldlie praesentes his troopes, and tho, as Chiefe, 
lodd foorth the shott the scharmishe to beginn. 

Tho bothe side buUettecs* flew through thicke and Buiiets fly about 
thin, 240 

quicke shott for shott, from bothe sydes, issued fast, 
to niultiplie their whistlinge errandes haest f 



Camballo throws 
out skirmishers, 



ambush ^ 
is discoverd, 



scMrmish7 
begins. 



1—1 4 lines om. in Ash. '^~^ om. in Ash. 

^—^ gainst whome Camballo stood, as white as sno, 
when Titans fierie glaunce glides too and fro. 
*— * 8 Imes om. in Ash. ^ om. in Ask. 

^— ^ thus mett a foreward Shott thalarum gave, 
so soone as hee discried in hollowe cave 
store of Fregiliens, which in ambush laie. 

whome thease saluting^ with a whole Volaie, 
thence soldierlie retierd. Then Aigarsife 

shewd boldlie his hid troopes, and, as theire Chiefs, 
lodd out the shott the skarmish to beginn ; 
the both sides bullettes pearcinge thicke and thin : 
w/uch, hotter growings, went and came so fast, 
as multiplied theire whistlinge bullettes hast ; 
'' om. in Ash. 



102 The 2 Brothers, Camhallo 8r Algarsife, fight. [Pt. VJI 



The Skirmish 
grows hot. 



Algarsife and 
Camballo oharg 
one another. 



^Oombat ofhvoe 
Orothers.^ 



Camballo ^ets 
the better of 
Algarsife. 



^and more and more encreasiiige, hotter grewe, 
till th' aier and ieildes them clothd in smoJde 
blewe; 244 

bownncinge, rebowncinge, new noise immitatinge 
so thicke, as Eccho told not for niistakinge.^ 

Algarsif at his brother shooke his pike : 
Camballo stowtlie did att him the like, 248 

2naie, quicklie, with a shocke of pikes, chargd home, 
theare right to make his rendeuons first known, 
gainst whome Algarsif rann from thambuscado, 
to prove his ernest provd no French bravado. 252 

Theare, theare th' sterne brothers mett at push of pike ; 
Algarsife bore it home with hast alike 
gainst Camball stowt ; Camball the slipp gave tho, 
and, pointwise, bore Algarsif^ downe to goe, 256 

w/^^'ch persant stroke, dischargd vppon his brest, 
provd Camballs moderation was the best. 
Algarsif, all enragd, chargd home againe; 
but Camball bidd the brunt t' Algarsif s paine, 260 

for Camball hurt him ; w/u'ch chaffd Algarsife, 
Who snaught his swoord, and with a loftie whifF, 
rann vppon Camball, whose nought dreadinge blade, ^ 

hast more through heat encreasing^ hotter grewe, 
till thaier hilles, dales, feildes, dond a smokie blewe, 
of bowncinge, chiding6', new noise ini??iitating<?, 
so roring<?, as not Eccho kept retakingc^. 
both with a shock<? of stronge pikes pushing^? home, 
came on to make each rendevous best known, 
and Algarsif (9 (foremost of thambuscado), 
for fame and honor false rann with bravado ; 
both brothers sternlie meetings pike to pike, 
woold over turnd each other in the Dike ; 
but stowt Camball (of cooler temper known) 
had with the push Algarsif overthrown, 
had it not glauncd, yet percd his iron brest, 
which provd Camballoes cause, skill, honor best, 
yet feirce Algarsif^ chargd him home againe, 
and Camball stood the brunt to Algarsifes paine, 
Yea, hurt him sore ; wJdoh so frett^.^r Algarsif*?, 
as drewe his swoord, and with aun hissings? w^hiff, 
laid lod<3 on Camball, whose requitting^ blad(?, 
^~^ 07ri. in Ash, 



Pt. VII.] Algarsife is rescued from Camhallo, 103 

^takinge the blowe, soone in att lialfe swoorde made, 264 
With sparcklinge bloes and thrustes, both taen and cambaiioand 

Algarsife fight 
givn, fiercely. 

as if bothe Steele cotes woold a sonder reven : 

ho lion, tiger, panther, salvage beare, 

so rended either as this couple teare : 268 

insomuch that this combatt passd all others, 

had it not happned twixt a paire of brothers. 

but trewe it is, wheare twoe borne of one mother, 

once hatinge, farr in spite excell all other. 272 

yet still they deadlie strove, strooke, stabbd togeather, 

that hardlie bothe the hostes mote them dissever. 

It was most like this warr had neere binn ended 
to them w/w'ch on Algarsifes side depended, 276 

incase Camballo had this combatt wonn. The combat is 

But it was staid by twoe knighted rasshe incomm, ^reskPAo ofAigar- 
with more supplies to fetche off Algarsif«e, 
who told him that it ill became theire chieff 280 

to fight in private, sithe on his downe fall 
did hange the good or ill fare of them all. 
Ifor Gnartoly, Leyfurco too, noold yeeld,^ 

1—1 accept^5 the stroke, and in at halfe swoord mad^, 

whear6^ sparckling6^ blowes, and thrustes (both taen & givn), 

so threshd as woold theire amies a sonder riven, 

like Eagles, tigers, mastiff^^ feirce, so fell 

as never Herault(9 cruder could tell. 

at sight wheareof the dale was forcd to stale, 

yet dale, ne night, could part this bloodie fray, 

this furious combat, farr excelling*? others, 

the greater pittie that this paire wear^ brothers ; 

but still is seene twoe brothers n' of one mother, 

once hating^? farr in spite surpasse all others. 

wheareby the warr it selfo had tliear^ binn ended 

(as on Algarsifes part his side depended), 

incase Camballo had the Duell wonn. 

W/iich staid was by twoe other knight^^, inconi 
with fresh supplies to fetch off Algarsife?, 
him telling<3 that it ill became theirs Chiefs 
to fight in single, sith on his down fall 
depend(?<s the factious good or ill of all : 
for Gnartoly woold not, ne Leifurck<?, yeild, 
2—2 01)1, in Ash. 



104 Algarsife loses Men. Camhiscan comes up. [Pt. ViL 



(f. 18) 
^ ye wJiole army 



Cambuscan cuts 
off some of Algar- 
sife's rearguiird. 



All Cambuscan's 
Anny comes close 
to Fvegiley. 



^to sett their state pon one plaine-fought out feild. 284 

But 16, ear they retyerd ; Cambuscan wheeles, 
and with his horsemen at his angrie heeles, 
fell on Algarsifes rear^ and cutt off those 
whome no portculleis had, ne walles t'enclose. 288 

Whioh donn, retyerd safe, quicklye wheelinge round, 
While all the buUwarcke^ wheele guns att him sound. 

The townsemens praises, ringinge Algarsife, 
swore him to bee ann admirable chieff ; 292 

Kaie, that hee, surelie, had Camballo slaine, 
in case theare had binn none theare but they twaine.^ 

The camp (for theire partes) as much Camball praysd, 
and his w^ell tenipred courage highlie^ raisd : 296 

thought ffortune ^envied him, the conquerer, 
of ^ takinge Algarsife his prisoner." 

^By this time the whole cam[p]e was com??^ in sight 
of Fregiley, w/^^ch now they viewd with spight, 300 
scorne, and disdaine, that suche vsurpers shook! 
thrive, or theire handes vp gainst theire soveraigne 

hold, 
notinge Algarsifes ensigne highe displayd,'^ 

1—1 to sett tlieire rest on anie plaine fought feild. 

but ear^ both thease a faire retrait had made, 
Cambuscan, on Ducell, his foes belayd : 
for falling*^ on their reare cutter' off all those 
whome no portculleis had, ne walles t' inclose : 
tho faire retierd and swiftlie wheeld around, 
though all theirs state gunes, engins eak<?, him frownd. 

the townes men vaunting<5 of theirs Algarsife, 
did sweare him a naost admirable Chief<?, 
naie, that hee had his brother Camball slaiae, 
had hee him in, and none thear but they twaine : 
for men contingent*?^ iudge as they woold have them, 
though own affections soonest doe deceave men. 
2—2 ^;;^_ Iji J_sh. 3 highest *— * yet him envied conquerer, not 

^ Ash. liere inserts : — 

thus both sides deemd, ear trial fought their fill, 
for as folke hope, they judg^, and ever will. 

By this, Cambuscans whole campe comd in sight 
of Fregiley, now yt beheld with spight, 
scorn, ire, disdaine, that prowd vsurpers should 
against theire soveraign thrive, Or hand vp hold, 
wheare markings false Algarsifes flagg displaid 



6—6 



Pt. VIL] Cambuscans Army reproach Algarsife, 105 



land how, on tli' towr, bove all the towne it gayd.^ 304 

^manie more colors danglinge on tlie walls, 

with wanton streamers (w/w'ch them sawcye caller) ,2 

protested with no litle indignation 

Against the lewd boldnes of his ostentation, 

Saienge, ** Algarsife, goe, and blase thy name, 
W7i?Jch publisheth to all the world thy shame, 
wAech neither art, force, fraud, cann so immure, 
as all thy liefe cann thee of shame recure ; 
for infamie this rancor diepe hath wonn, 
that fact once donn cannever bee vndon. 
and all yee, his insolent complices^ 
(whoe build on others spoiles your greatnesses), 
bin^ our times purchacers, and wee your heires, 
for^ time cann make vs flayers of yee flayers." 

Cambuscan '^now (as twas his nobliste fashion) 
gave those'' his soldiers lovinge gratulation, 
^ whoe beate his^ Eebelles home : " L5, soldiers playe ! " 
and to Ca[m]ballo^ thus ; " well stoode, my boye ! '' 

Algarsife, tho,^^ vppon the walls was comm, 
11 th' armies approche to viewe, and what was donn -y^ 
"What time Cambuscan soddainlie spurrd out 325 

on brave Ducello, foremost of the rowt, 
13 and gallopd close vp to this mightie towne, 
to speculate, and circle it arowne.^^ 328 



308 



312 



316 



320 



Cambuscan's 
Army see Algar- 
sife's flag on 
Pregiley. 



They i*eproach 
him for his 
infamy. 



6 honorable ae- 
knowlegynent of 
good sendee.^ 



euterview.^^ 

Cambuscan rides 
his Horse of Brass 
round Fregiley. 



1—^ topp of the towr, w/zich o're the Cittie swaied, 

2—2 om. in Ash. 
3—3 gainst that ambition's-factious ostentation ; 

whome thus gann exprobat^ : " Goe ! blaze thy name 
to all the world, wldoh. palnteth out thie shame, 
w/tich neither fraud, force, art, cann so immure, 
as. that thie Death cann ear<? thy fame recure ; 
for this Dire rancor polecie hath wunn, 
that fact, once Donn, can never bee vndon. 
and yee his insolent-Yile complices, 
tre ^ w/iich 6— 6 ^^^^ i^ j^gj^^ 7—7 tho (as was his prudent fashion) gave all 
^— ^ for beating<? ^^ Camballo ^ now 

11—11 to see this hostes approch, and what was donn i^ ofn, in Ash. 
13—13 and gallopd close vp to his rebell town ; 

all w/iich bee quicklie circkled rown and rown, 



106 Cambuscan examines Fregiley. His Fleet. [Pt. VII. 



Cambuscaii ex- 
amines Fregiley, 



to see where he 
can best attack it, 



and plant his 
batteries. 



Algarsife repents 
(HI seeing his 
Father. 



^navy arriveth.'^ 



Cambnscan sees 
his Fleet at hand. 



^ first takinge perfect viewe of lies location, 

and of the manner of th' fortification/ 

^theire havon, watringes, and each litle creeke, 331 

tlieire fianckers, rampiers, ravelinge^, skarf, town deeke ; 

theire strongest bullwarcke^ and theire weakest places, 

wlieare breach, and entrance mote make best pur- 

chaces \^ 
2 theire neigboringe hills, their firme grounded without 

plaine, 
trenches to lead best, battries eake sustaine. 336 

I^ow ^ when Algarsife, his owne fPather sawe, 
some^ nature strooke his hart throughe with some awe, 
and shame (yfliiok in the best blood blussheth ever) 
^diverts his eies, and hunge adowne his feather;^ 340 
caractringe this confession on his will, 
^" Lo, I, -which have^ requitted good with ill." 

s But lo, farr off, a ffleete of shipps discries, 
seeminge as small birder soringe in the skies ;^ 344 
^the wJdch, sithe standinge inward for the land, 
Cambuscan whoe they are dothe vnderstand ; 
for so their point made with a mirry winde, 
as shewd theire mindes wind with Cambuscans mynd.^ 
i^At last they kend it was his Admiral, 349 

who the kinges embleam bore on's fiagg staff tall. 
Don Akafir it is, who tackd all sailes, 
ear wind fro shore, and^^ tyde from sea, him failes. 



1—1 to take a perfect viewe of her location, 
the manner also of ites fortification : 
2—2 4 lines 07)1. in Ash. 
^— ^ the neighboure hilles, & how these g'round<?5 and plaine 

woold trenches lead his battries to sustaine. But 
trewe ^~^ him so reprovd as down hid hang6^ his fethen^ ; 

^—^ Lo, I the knave ^— '^ 07n. in Ash. 

8—8 While loj farr off, a ffleet of shippes they spie, 

w/iich (smallbird like) seemd to sore neere the skie, 
^—^ 4 lines om. in Ash. 
10—10 -vvhome kenning^, knewe yt was thigh Admiral, 
by the kinges embleam, worn on flagg<? staff tall, 
hight Aquaphir ; now tackinge on all sailes, 
care windt'^' from shore or 



himself on the 
Nortli, and Akafir 
(witli the Fleet) 
on the South. 



Pt. VII.] Cambicscan arranges the Siege of Fregileg. 107 

^AU tharmie leapd for ioje to see tlieir frendes; 353 
but it sadd newes to the Fregiliens sendes, 
"Whose eies a while attended on their number, 
but then (in spite) gave them^ a voUie of thunder. 356 tijo Fregiiians 

'* Are 2 yee so brave ? quoth -^ Akalir m lest, can's Fleet. 

'' anon Ile^ p^y this debt with thinterest." 
^then in hee bore for land, till th' tyde was spent, 
& theare cast ancor to ride p] permanent* 360 

Cambuscan next departed ^ his host in three, border of the 

besides"^ the sea force, v^hioh. in all, fowr bee. cambuscan win 

^meaninge each part shoold^ have the townes one quarter 
^strictlie beleager, and as stronglie batter.^ 36-4 

At th' east, Binato ^^shoold encamp the towne;^^ haveBUmtoon 

At th' west, Camballo ^^shoold goe^i sitt him downe; baiio on the west, 
At th^ north, him selfe ; At th' south, Akafir bold 
shoold bothe poles axil bee, their ^^ waine t' vphold.^^ 353 
At the north side twelve canons shoold ^^ be mounted ; 
At theast and west as many to bee counted, 
but from the sea as many more shoold ^^ comm 
as neede requird,^^ vntill the towne bee wonn. 372 

him selfe, or Akafir, the rounde woold^^ goe, (f. isb.) 

to see all services ^''donn to and fro ; 

swearinge withall, hee'l near^^ endewr this fasshion, ^^ Generals pro- 
i^land men gainste sea men stirr vp altercation j^^ 376 
'WMoh hee forbidden, vppon moste^^ grevous paine, 
till hee determin ^^whoe meedes soveraigne.^i 

1—1 thwhole armie ioy'mge at more wellcomd frendes, 
w7?.ich but sad newes to all the Fregiliens send<?s, 
whose eies a while tooke knowledge? of theire numbers 
yet in dispite them gave 

^ binn ^ g^id 4 §^^11 

°~^ so thear<? bore in for Land eare tyd<? was spent, 
and came to anchor to bee permanent. 
Whear^ now Cambuscan partes 
6—6 Q^yi^ i^fi jigjf^^ 7 beside ^—^ intending^ each part 

9—9 Yvell to beleager, and as well to batter. lo— lo hath t'invad6^ the town, 
11-11 hath to 12-12 Orbs to vphold i^ to i* to i^ requires 

1^ shall 17—17 ^veii donn, too, fro, and swore hee would no more 

18—18 (^„i,^ i^^ jig]^^ 19—19 Qf Land men made gainst seamen altercation : 

^^ a 21—21 y^ jj^g soveraign. 



108 Cambuscans Directions to his Admiral [Pt. VIL 



Cambuscan's 
soldiers admire 
his plan. 



He gallops to the 
sea- 



receives his ad- 
miral, Akafir, 



and gives liim 
' his direction for 
a^pprochj 



Akafir is to dig 

trenches, 



and make 2 look- 
out stations. 



380 



384 



^The soldiers much admird his governamice, 
and with as hartie love as reverence, 
vowd they woold ever suche obedience give, 
as love gainste maiestie no more doe strive.^ 

^Thus are the land men readie to bee gonn,^ 
in stowt and warlike ranckes. Tho^ Cambuscan 
^gallopd as swift as fyer to the sea shore, 
whome Akafir espienge woold leapd ore.^ 
^but soone the bote came, and transport6?5 him out; 
Thoe, with all reverence, to the kinge gann lowt.^ 388 
^the kinge directinge that hee shoold next tyde 
land canon ordinance, on this and that syde, 
to cutt all refuges from off the mayne ; 
and bidden them all att midnight th^avon chaine. 392 
Yea, theare moore fast some shipps, that no reliefs 
comm from??z the sea to succoure Algarsife.^ 
^then, to digg rowlinge trenches in the grown, 
to lead his men safe to the walled towne, 396 

wMch vndermoine hee shoold, that fluctuation 
mote sea-washe shole braines out of no foundation.^ 
^Next, biddes mount twoe plottformes of highe com- 

maund,^ 
to skowre the sea-coste, and controll the Land : 400 
10 all wA^'ch committer to trewe Akafirs speede, 
sithe neede and speede convertes as theare is neede.i'^ 



1—1 4 lines om. in Ash. 
2—2 thus readie stood the Land men to goe on, 3 While 

'^— * as swift as lightnings gallopd to the shore, 
to whome eouragious Aquaphir leapd ore, 
^—^ om. in Ash. 
6—6 whome thus the kings bidds^, that the next tide, 
Land Canon ordinance on either sids, 
all refuges to cutt off from the mayne ; 
and willd at midnight hee the havon chaine : 
thears moorings fast som shippes, that no reliefs 
mote com from sea to succoure Algarsifs. 
7—7 0>yn,^ ifi Ash. 8~^ 4 lines om. in Ash. 

9_9 ^j^gjj biddss twoe plott formes mount of high commaund, 
10-10 w/itch hee committss to Aquaphir s good speed, 
that need and speed convert with thinstant deed. 



109 



Cambusoau's 
2 encouragment^ 
to his tvoops. 



Pt. VIL] Algarsifes Defence for Fregiley, 

^Theu bidden all his good soldiers to remember 
Whye, and for wliome, they com??! on this adventer,i 
and them assures, that whoe ^deserves it beste 405 

shall have for^ gwerdon a kinges promise prest, 
^bothe for the well deserver and his frend. 

This made all soldiers willingelie contend,* 408 

^and make them readie gainst the prime of tyde, 
'^ Saint George to borrowe," resolutelie cried. 

Instantlie kinge Cambnscan skoysd to campe 
in th' aier, whose presence did the townesmen dampe, 
for well they deemd hee woold force on approches 413 The Fregiiians 

expect Cambuscait 

as night came on, by soldierly e encroches ; 

his canons monnte, his battries bringe to play, 

if yt bee possible, ear morrowe day<?.^ 416 

Gainste whome the Towne "^ thus their "^ defenses make : 
Horbello th' easterne part did vndertake ; 
Algarsife did the westerne part defend ; 
^Gnartoly on the north part did attend ; 420 

Leifnrco did the south part stowt maintaine ; 
and each twaine correspondes with thother twaine :^ 
Yet so, as theire seavn mounter bee mand all waies, 
to serve for lopeholt^^ on contrarie sayes. 424 

for so Yideria ^gann them consolate,^ 
as a mayne secrett to theire posterne gate. 

i^By this, pale Titan cladd in wollen fiices, Evening comes. 

Hunge welkins haull with vnwrought brodclothe syses, 

AYheare havinge walkd with Auster through the howse,^^ 

1—1 Next, bidd<?s them to consider and remember 

for whome, and whie, they comm on his adventere, 
2—2 om, in Ask. 2— 3 deserveth best hath for his 
*— * as well for the deserver as his frend, 

W/^^ch rovvzd all soldiers bravelie to contend. 
^—^ 8 lines om. in Ash. ^—^ am. in Ash. ^— ^ did thease 
^—^ and Gnartolyt^ the north sid^ did attend ; 
Leyfurco gainst the south part did maintaine, 
still to bee opposit6^, and still distraine : 
9—9 them did consulate, 
10—10 3y |}-jjg p^]q xitan skattred wollen flises, 

to cloth sad welkins haul with rawe wrought sizes, 
which, wayviug^ out of Austers waterie howse, 



to push lus Ap- 
proaches all niglit. 



^!/^ townes gar cl- 
ing it selfefi 
Horbello on tlie 
East, Algarsife 
on the West, 
Ciiiartoly on the 
North, and 
Leifnrco on tlie 
South. 



110 Cambuscans Oj^ation to his Soldiers, [Pt. VII. 



Night hides the 
hostile ai-mies. 



^hied westwarde6' home in stornies all hnmidous : 
liglit sbrinckinge in a pace, that wisshed night 



430 



432 



2 Generals era- 
tlon before 
MM? 



Cambuscan de- 
cbires tliafc Fre- 
giley is his. 



He'll give it to 
those who win it, 
Cauace being mis- 
tress of it. 



mote spredd her canopie, t' hide all from sight 

of these Cambnscanites, least gun?zers eye 

mote from the townes seavn mounte.9 them marcke^ 

envye, 

so fyer tlieire roringe gvn?^s. Now in good tyme 

ISToblist Cambuscan, seeinge his men nye him, 436 

suppled his bookes, and with a dulcet voice 

drewe all mens ears vnto his silent noise. 

" Subiectes," quoth hee, " ffrende^, fellowe soldiers,^ 

L6, heere the towne that lackes vs conquerers : 440 

^and com?7^, dare wee who lacke, as time is com?/^, 

to cast vp our whole processe in this somm,^ 

without suppressinge the least worthie deede 

^ w7?ich anie man shall in this service meede. 444 

The towne, in right, yee knowe is onlie mine, 

herrs, his, or theires to whome I liste assigne : 

for this I speake, that all may better knowe, 

honor (if well rewarded) more dothe growe. 448 

then bee this town youres : yt I sett for prize 

t' each virtuous, whoe will winn ites golden fiize. 

Canac of it is mistress, Yee her men.^ 

1—1 begann to shedd his congiewes humidous, 

light shrincking(9 hence to hide, bespake the night, 
to bring<? in blind<?5, Whearewith to keepe from sight 
all soldiers, that no Ganonier them side. 

What time Cambuscan seeing^ them him nie, 
gann trill his horse eares pinn, and with cleer^ voice, 
drewe their<9 attentive will(9s to heere no toies, 
but thus : "Ye frendes and fellowe soldiers, 

2—2 Qr,ji^ l>^2, Ash. 

3—3 whither as wee now are com??i, so time is com 

to cast vp their sovam total in this som, 
4—4 that anie of yee all shall heerein meed ; 

the town is, as yee knowe, though wholie mine, 

Yet shalbee hers, his, theires, t' whome I assigne : 

I thearefore intimate that all male knowe, 

that honor, Yf rewarded, more doth growe. 

then I this Cittie sett youres, for jom' prize, 

runn virtuous, that will win her golden flize ; 

of w7wch Canace is mistress^?, yee her men, 



Pt. VII.] The Watch is set. Fre(/iley is Jjeleaguerd. Ill 

it shalbee hers and youres, I sweare agen. 452 

"^J^ow, if t' your selves yee propose mistresses ^ Cambuscan asks 

' '^ J r i j^.g ^^^^j^ whether 

(as did th'old Heroes, for^ services), 

then^ have yee twaine, my Queene and Canacye ; (f- 19) 

chouse w^^ch yee liste, ^if so these twoe been they. 456 they'll Aght for 

his Queen or his 

but I assure yee,^ if yee fight for Loue, Daughter Canace. 

^iustice that lovinge fight dothe still approve ;^ 

or if it bee for iustice that yee fight, 

^Loue proves yee love well, to contend for right.^ 460 

my wife and daughter made these twoe suites t'yee, 

Whome how yee cann denye I cannott^ see. 

saye then, for wheather^ of these twaine d'yee^ fight V 

" fPor bothe, for bothe ! " they cried, with mayne and ^^lomng^ouiter^ 

' aunswerjo 

might. 464 They say 'Both.' 

^' Then," quoth ^^ the kinge, 'Svellfare your honest 

hartes ! " 
^2 so all men to theire quarters quiche departes.^^ 
the while Cambuscan rounded ^^ Camballs eare, 

tills secret watch woord w/^^ch hee hath to beare 468 TheWatoinvordis 
to th' court of Captaines, Avhoe the ^^gard attendes^*, 
it ^ morior ' hight. Tho all to ^^counsell wende^'?,^*^ -^^ watcn sett in 

^■"^ What proiecte^ for approches th'ave to followe ; 
mountes, plottformes, barricadoes, trenches hoUowe, 
blockhowses, skonces, fortes, potarrs them t' rydd, 473 

All wA^'ch Cambuscan soone decreed, and bydd 
a strict beleagringe, battringe eake of th' towne, is^^e towyie hau- 

b' assaul tinge, scahnge, entringe, beatinge down ; 476 
chiefiie th' Commaunders to doe valientlie, 
because example entreth at the eye, 
wheare credit sooner winns then at the eare,^^ 

1—1 Now then, Yf yee propose yee mistresses, ^ j^ 

^ heere *— * j^'f onlie thease are they : and I assure you 

5_5 ^i^jg justice doth that lovelie truith approve. 

6—6 love proves yee love to convert with truithes right. "^ doe not 

8 ^NhiQ,h. ^ will yee lO— lo q^j^^^ i^^ j^gj^^ ii g^ici 

12—12 t.]-iQ all to theire own quarters home depart^^5. ^^ whistred 

14—14 gvvard^^s attend, 15— 15 ^;^^^_ ^^ Ash. 16— 16 quarters wend 

1*"— 17 9 lines oni. in Ash, i8~-i8 ^,;j^ ^^ ^^/^^ 



Cambusean de- 
sires only to lead 
his men. 

2 assailants reso- 
lute? 



His Cannon are 
mounted on their 
carriages, 



112 Cambusean s Artillery is got ready. [Pt. VIL 

1 While tonges well mucli male talke, but no hand steare, 

Naie, saye well, but doe ill ; Or one thinge tell, 481 

and meane another, w/w'ch hee likd not well. 

for his owne part hee cravd this onlie glorie 

of owne example, goinge well before yee. 484 

They vowd they valerouslye woold ; and so 
tooke faithfull leave, each to his charge to goe.^ 
^vpmounted are the greate Artilerie,^ 
*on owne huge-iron-carriages knobbie, 488 

all in a readines to bee drawn on, 
out of theire brazen mowthes to sweare anon 
in fiaminge language, that all th'inipious muste 
have theire false-traiterous groundes beat downe to 
duste. 492 

for canoniers, carpenters, laborers, 
enginers, mulcibers, toughe pioners, 
With ladelle.9, skowrers, chargers, coolers, spunges, 
lint stockes, powder, bullette^, leavers, thrunges, 496 
to shove the canons, ayminge by the snowt 
at yonder gabien loope-holes, to putt out ; 
each canon havinge manie men at worke, 
to com in place, to hurt, or theare to lurck^;^ 500 

^ with manie officers all needes to plie, 
that nought bee left vndon, nor oft awrye. 

But lo, th' Fregiliens q^aartred are in standes, 
t' impeach Akafirs landinge his bold bandes. 504 

nay,^ all approchers, as well this as that, 
^for still they swore ^ they woold maintaine their statt 
-Against all the world, swearinge theare restes thear 



and ladles, 
lintstocks, &c., 
got ready. 



The Fregilians 
prepare to oppose 
the landing of 
Cambuscan's 
sailors. 



3—3 theare 

5-— 5 



mayn.' 
Howbeet, the brave Cambuscanites assayen, 

i~^ 7 lines oni. in Ash. ^~^ om. in Ash. 

vp to mount the great artilerie, ^—* 13 lines am. i7 
whose Officers all sydes and quarters ply. 

The prowd Fregiliens also kept their standes, 
f impeach bold Aquaphirs new Landed bandes, and 

6—6 still vowing<? that 
gainst comers all : sith thearein restes theire maine. 



508 



Ash. 



Pfc. VIL] Cambuscan^s attack on Fregiley, 113 

^at everie quarter to aj)proclie clispigM, 
and so in everie quarter ginns the iight. 

The shipps out rord of smoke, flame, shott, and cambuscan's 

ships fire 

fyer, 
as when grim-heavens-clowdes drawes sulphur hier, 512 simue?- 
t' apprentize twoe foes to one occupation, 
to worcke by quite contrarie occupation : 
hott fier, cold water, reavinge bandes a sonder, 
agastes the world with lightninge, raine, and thunder, 
so flunge the shipps their thunderboltes on th' towm. on the town. 

But in the nieane Akafir gott some grown, 518 ^ see men gem 

thoughe some of his best soldiers weare yshott, 
with murderers from the walls, ear vp they gott, 520 
Yet made they head ; and Akafir, afront, 
hewd out his passage throughe the thickest brunt, 
so that his followers, by his manlie x^laie, 
sawe in the darkest night to find their waye. 524 

for hee so the Fregiliens canvacd, that The Fregiiiuns 

retreat. 

the plaine feild nis their refuge, but their statt. 

Wheare, forcd them in adores, yea to close fight, 

so that on evn termes durst not trye his might. ^ 528 

1—^ at everie quarter t' enter dale and night, 
so theare in everie quarter ginnes the fight. 

The shippes great Canons rore out shott, and fyer^, 
like as when sulphrie clowdes (contract) conspire 
twoe foes t' apprentize to one occupation, 
both working*? by contrarie operation, 
with fier and water reaving6^ handes asonder, 
agast the world with lightninge, raine, and thunder : 
so flung^ the shipps theirs tormente.s gainst the town, 
while in the meane Aquaphir gott some grown, 
though som of his best soldiers off wear^ smott 
with gumi shott from the town, when Land they gott. 
Yet resolutelie makingi? head afront, 
Hewd out theire passag<3 through the hardest brunt, 
So as his followers (taught by his schoole play) 
sawe whear<?, how darck^ so ear*?, to find theirs waie. 
from whence them beating<? everie question gatt, 
till the plaine left, they rann into their statt. 
wheare howzd constraind the keistrelks to close fight, 
not daring<? openlie to trie the right : 

'"^ 07}i. in Ash. ^—'■^ 07)1. in Ash. 

LANE. 1 



114 



stratagem.^ 



Cambuscan's 
pioneers sap up 
to Fregiley. 



3 trenches com 
neere.'^ 



^salHants beaten 
homeJ' 

(f. 19 b) 



6 brazen Tiorse & 
swoordfi 



Cambuscan slays 
rebels. 



Cambuscaris attach on Fregiley. [Pt. VIL 

^meane time hee vsd this stratagem of warr, 

to sticke vp lighted mattches, -wliioh from farr 

seemd standee of pikes and shott, hidd in the 

darcke ; 
Wheareat th' fregiliens gnnners made their mar eke, 532 
but spent their ordinannce and witt in vaine, 
While Akafir and his more footinge gaine. 
for his ingenious troope of enginers, 
strongs laborers and ventringe pioners, 536 

so lustelie beestirrd them, that by morne 
theire mountes and trenches came the towne aforne, 
to vault their skoldinge gunners in, Whoe plie 
to his owne soldiers more tranquilitie.^ 540 

^But kinge Cambuscan noold spend manie shott 
on papern-gunners barrelks (waxinge hott) :^ 
^fell on them with a shocke of well armd pikes, 
Whoe followinge, pusshd and strooke home, as hee 
strikes,^ 544 

^oreturninge all. ffor Morliuo, his swoorde, 
requird longe streetes the kinges highe waye t'aifoord, 
and taught them knowe, that provokd lenitie 
is iustice (dealinge dewes extremitie). 548 

not one perseverant mutinous hee spaerd, 
Wheare iustice (in hott blood) noold cries regard ; "^ 



1 om. in Ash. 
-2 12 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted : — 
in so much as that fore the prime of morn 
theire mountes and trenches came the town aforn, 
w/wch vaulted in the foes : whoe, soon recoiling^, 
rann to the skonce of everlasting/9 railing^. 
3—3 Q^j2'^ i^ Ash. 
4--4 Cambuscan, thearefore, not to spend his shott 
on paper gunners, lyinge down the throte, 
6—5 Qj^,^ i^ Ash. ^—^ om. in Ash. 

7— '^ them chargd with fierie Morlivo, his swoord, 

and through their files and ranckes laid swarthes aboord, 

to prove that longe provoked lenitie, 

invoketh iustices extremitie ; 

w^ich no perseverant(?s hath att all to spare, 

sith hott and cold, they iustice rigor dare. 



Cambuscaii's 
pioneers dig their 
trenches close to 
Fregiley. 



3 a dissembling e 
ciirrifauor .^ 

Gnartoly tells 
Cambusean that 
the Fregilians 



are his liege men ; 



Pfc. VIL] Gnartoly, the false Fregilian, 

^but forcd the false Fregiliens backe to romi 

and shutt tlieire gates, by him (neere pell niell) wonn. 

"VVheareby his pioners wrote with more ease, 553 

as feelinge his well fightinge provd their peace, 

so, after him, their rowlinge trenches brought 

as neere the walles (allmost) as home hee fought : 556 

and as they went, mountes canons with a trice, 

Whence all the world him grauntes iust, valient, wise.^ 

2 Gnartoly, this perceavinge off the walles, 
ioUelie thus to kinge Cambusean calls, 560 

and told, and him retold oft and agen,^ 
that his Fregiliens weare his trewest men, 
naie are, and wilbee (saie men what they woold), 
and by that faith and trothe ^for him doe hold : 564 
invertiuge thus, th' kinges selfe delt wrongefullie, 
to doe his eldest sonn this iniurie. 
but they weare all^ his liege men trewe forsoothe: 
tho smild, as butter noold^ melt in his mow the, 568 
^ With begginge formes to bee belivd like him, 
Who,^ iuglinge, faine woold all mens creditte^ winn. 
■^so with a crooked curtchie, wried aright, 571 

gogiinge bothe eies, sayd, *^ At your service dight ;" 
Yet turninge round at all Cambuscans men — 
them faster raild then did the tonge or penn,'^ 
of peltinge Zoilus, or bigg momus coold, 
Sgaininge the wispe of talest tipptoa skold.^ 576 



^~^ 8 line^ am. in Ash. 
2—2 Which Gnartolit^ escaping^ off the walles, 
thus iollelie to kinge Cambusean QSiWes, 
whome told, and him retold too, and agen, 
2—2 om. in Ask. 
of theires will hold ; inverting^ that the kinge delt wrongefullie, 
in doing's eldest sonn this iniurie. and that they weare 

^ n' woold 
6—6 ^yj^ij crooked curtchies, solemn lookes, like him, that 
''— '' then milking*? his mustaches (wried aright) 

(his eies to heavn cast) bodd the kinge good night, 
but turninge round to all Cambuscans men, 
them viler raild then anie tonge or penn 
^—^ for which hee bore the wispe from everie skold. 

1 2 



115 



yet he abuses 
Cavnluiscan's 
men. 



116 Fight between Camhallo and Algardfe, [Pt. Vlf. 

^tlien what neede handes (in warrfare) knighthode raise, 
Wlieaie long tunges gunn sliott mote prevent the praise % 
as whilome deignd this wriglinge fyrbaliste 
smile, crouch, begg, sigh, cogginge humilianiste.^ 580 

''^Sirrah," Cambuscan lowrd, •' all yee haue loste^ 
Your principale verbe (credite) wA/ch yee boste -^ 
but if I catche yee^ once with one bold lye, 583 

^your faire coynd truithe^ shall scarce yee iustefye." 
^ With all (shakings? Morliuo) sayd, " doubt not,'' 
but He solve youres and the boies gordian knott ! 
^ne thin eke your worded, alone, have to decline 
your rebell selves ; but this my discipline ! " 588 

They waivinge him with theire swoord Sanglamort, 
the bothe thrette6' thretninge ernes te6^ of brave sport. ^ 

^^Meane tinie,^° Binato was sore fought with all 



^ fraud dis- 
cerned.^ 



Cambuscan scoffs 
at Gnartoly, 



and threatens 
him. 



^ siDoordes of 
Proofe.^ 



592 



Cambuscan 
i2?/e Mng akleth 
lohear neede isJ^ 



'^^ cruel Jight twixt 
iwoe brothem.^^ 



^^by grand Horbillo, so that helpe gann call, 

vnto whose aide Cambuscan rode with speede, 

supplienge all in all wheare theare was neede :^^ 

^3 and made suche havocke everie waiehee went, 

as soone his foes rann, and within dores pent.^^ 596 

^^But feirce Algarsife and Camball, this while ^'^ 

fought, whoe shoold winn. and whoe slioold leese the 

soile. 

1—1 4 lines 0111. in Ash. and the following lines inserted : — 
as art of faction levineth to learn, 
eternal brondes idealie to earn. 
2—2 am. in Ash. '^~'^ ''Yon Sirrah," said Cambuscan, "well yee bost 
^ lost, ^ joti ^—^ Your townes coynd troth 

7— 7 t' whome shewing^ Morlivo, sayd, ''dowt yee not 
8—8 4 lilies oiii. in Ash. ^~^ oni. in Ash. lo— lO ^j^jg while 

11—11 \^j grand Orbell, so as for helpe did call, 

to whome Cambuscan on Ducell mad6" speed, 
and gratiouslie supplied him whear<5? was need ; 
12—1:4 g^j^^^ ^,j^ Ash. 

13—13 these 2 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted : — 
wheare tottriug<? on the point of fallings down, 
Ducello holpe him well to stand his grown : 
tho did Binato drive Orbello back<;^, 
and to theire heeles putt all his gawdie pack*?, 
Ducello down all trampling*? whear6^ hee went, 
& killd each one that in his movvth hee nempt. 
11-14 Algarsif6^ and Camballo all this while, 15— is ^^^^^^ ^.ji Ash. 



Pt. VIL] Camb alio and Algarsife fight ; are 2^arted, 117 
With so fell yernesse^ and continuance, The brothers 

1 1 • T nr\f\ Camballo and 

2 with cnaimge of fortunes wheele m combattante^, 600 Aigarsife figiit. 

as wonder weare to^ tell ; fFor now this syde 

^recoiles, Then that side backward hyed. 

yet by freshe courage chargd on head again e, 

& still, still th' breath erne, fygh tinge lions twaine, 604 

caringe, ne sparinge, ought to take or kill ; 

for whie the wager lay on cithers will, 

Yet neither thone ne thother balckd the feild, . 

for leavinge, in a manner is to yeeld. 608 

This fight Cambuscan (whose tente was in th' niidle, ^y^frawarteci.^ 
twixt east and west) beheld, and staid a litle 
to see his sonnes fight out theire knightlie prize, 
as knowinge knighthodes type is that assise 612 

that alwaies trulie dothe : that all essaies 
mote virtuouslie asport the noblist praise, 
but seeinge Aigarsife fight falsarie, 
the kinge russhd in amid the mutinie. 616 cambuscan parts 

. , - A 1 • P -1 li'^s sons. 

att whose area praesence Algarsiie retierd, 
and shutt the gates (of all his syde admird).^ 

^ feircenes 
2-2 on th' chaunge of Fortunes wheele, to combattant^^ : as wonder cannofc 
3—3 then that sid^ forward, backward, wavering*? slyde, 
each with fresh courag(9 charguig^ home againe, 
the brothers fighting<9 still like lions twaine, 
not fearing^, caring^, sparing6^, take or kill ; 
as eithers wager laie on cithers will, 
woold not thone should to thother leave the feild, 
though leavings doth not ever simplie j^eild. 

Cambuscan tho, whose tent stood in the midle, 
twixt east and west, this marking;?, staid the bridle, 
to see his twoe sonnes fight theire knightlie prize, 
well knowinge knighthod winnes not th' golden fiize, 
but trewe and iust ye strike, that heroes 
male from the Vicious beare the noblest bales : 
so now gainst false Algarsifes polecie, 
in rushd amid theire misticke mutinie, 
his horse Ducello teudringe in his teeth, 
all to Cambuscan, to bee killd foorthwith ; 
vppon whome runnings was neere over thrown, 
had they not by this warr horse binn beestrown. 

W/iich Aigarsife abhorringe backe retierd, 
and shutt the gates, of all his men admird. *— * om, m Ash. 



Ill 



Fire is opend again on Fregiley. [Pt. VIII. 



Attack on Fregi- 
ley. 



stratagems ^ 
of Camballo. 



(f. 20) 



'^fP'ouncl gott, 
canons mounted.''' 



5 toivn beseeged 
rotvn.^ 



Intelligence sent 
to Q. Ethelta. 



Canto odauo, 

Kinge Thotobun dothe promise ayde, 
^ battyre and sally bothe are tryed ; 

Gnartolite, Leifarcke, Horbells inrode stayd. 
Cambuscans Love theire crueltie discried.^ 

^Binato with Camballo all this night 
fierd in theire quarters manie a smokinge light, 
and placd some emptie curacies hard by, 
Which glimpsinge like armd men at Fregely, 4 

soone thither drewe tlieir Gunners aimes to shoote. 

But th' Campe their error flouted, & made this boote, 
that from the barricadoed groundes ygott, 
earlie salutes the towne w^'th Canon shott, 8 

havinge eake cutt each passage off, path, creeke, 
theare to bee spokenn within their deeke.^ 

^I^ow Cambuscan havinge them leagred fast, 
gan send th' intelligence theareof post haste, 12 

to Ethelta his queene and lovinge wiefe, 
Whoe ioid, but vengeance wishd on Algarsife. 
W^^'ch famous newes beinge in Serra known ,^ 



1—1 feirce battrie, sallies hott are tried, 

Orbells, Leyfurckoes, Gnartolytes inrodes staid, 
Cambuscans love theire tyrannies discried. 
^ these 10 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted : — 

Thus havinge brought his troopes home to theirs state, 

they dublie barricadoed everie gate, 

so fast as art, force, divelish polecie, 

fraud, engin, plottformes, soveraign tyrannie, 

mote balk<?, or shun'?^ the brazen horses teeth ; 

w/uch yet so held as mastred all thearewith ; 

not loosing^ one, yf caught, to scape awaie, 

till mad6? them humblie willing!? to obaie. 

of whome, as grewe theirs? fear<?, so did theirs hate 

abhorr what mad<? them so obtemporate, 

as that in general, the Garrison, 

chawd manie a quid : and counsell tooke theareon. 
^ om. in Ash. *— * ovi. in Ash, ^~^ om. in Ash. 

^'"^ Nathlesse Cambuscan, thus them leagringd? fast, 

intelligence theareof sent hast post hast 

to Etheelta his Queene (most noble wif/?), 

who ioid, as vengeance wishd on Algarsif^. 

the fame wheareof in Sorra beingt-- known, 



Pt. VIIL] K Thotobun promises to help Cambu8can, 119 

ifyers as for halfe wonn victories weare blown.^ 16 

So sent hee Amidis ^his page t'^ his frend 
king Thotobun of Arahie and Ind, King Thotobun 

^t^mpart the premisses; Whose gratulation mises combuscan 

powrd foorth this kind and kinglie disponsation, 20 ^ ^* 
of sweetlie wellcominge th' embassadere 
With cheere and richer giftes then ever weare, ^ 
^and at departure with all love and ioie,^ 

thus hight : "Goe tell thie master, prettie^ l>oye, 24 
^ that him I love, and honor much his action, 

in that he aymes at th'atchett of slye faction, to put down iac- 

Whoe mote at last suche marriages begett/ 
as no disvnion shall a-sonder sett. 28 

''tell him''' I will auxiliaries send him, 
gainst warrs all difficulties, w7^^che maie spende him. 
but lett him, as hee ha the begun w, perceaver, and punish 

^that traitors die, and iustice raigne forever." 32 

But these (thoughe glorious newes) much yerkd '^warr&he^tnmes 

^ are bad.^ 

Ganac, 

Whoe viewinge all in her perspective glasse, 

found they weare mingled sweete, sowr, pleasant, bitter, 

(fe praefaced ioie, but steepd in sadder licor. 36 

" Alas " (quoth shee), " the best of these brave newes Canace mourns 

bin butt wars entrie, without warrs yssues. 

my fFather, to his honor, and with saftye^ 

1—1 bonfiers weara, as for Victories, vp blowen. 2—2 ^j^g pj^^g^ ^q 
^—'^ 4 li7ies om>. in Ash. 
*— * to whome at parture hee (in love and ioie), ^ lovelie 
^— ^ that him I honor for his roial action, 

w/wch purposeth ann hatchet for prowd faction ; 
wheareby such marriages at last maie gett 
^— "^ and saie, 
s— 8 that falsehode die, and iustice live forever. 

But theas brave newes weare yrkesome to Canace, 
whoe viewing*? them in her perspective glasse, 
felt they wear^ mingled sweet, sowr, pleasant, bitter, 
though prefacd ioie, yet steepd in saddest licor, 
thearefore pronouncd that bravest warres beginning's, 
are but drie mornes sonn shine, of evns wett endinges. 
for whear^ my ffather, to his honor hie, 
^— ^ om. ill Asli, 



120 Canace laments the evils of the War. 



Canace ref?rets 
that if her Father 
wins. 



her Brother 
Al^arsife must 
suffer. 



She and he will 
both die. 



[Pt. VllL 

40 



^hatlie Fregiley beeseeged; I ioie that mastrie, 
for tis a brave on-sett : yet warr is warr, 
and still dothe one side, nay oft bo the sides, marr. 
ffbr saye my father winn and raze the towne, 
I graunt that fame would blason his renowne : 44 

Yet theare is losse in winninge, wheare the winner 
somms their lives loste, whoe livd till warres be- 
ginner 
them lodd to fames highe daunger-teacbinge schoole, 
Whose rudimentes binn hott, conclusions coole. 48 

Then if in warr wee kill our enimies, 
and leese our frendes, thears Joies extremities. 
Whence if he chastize Algarsife, my brother,^ 
Yet violence in th' act is the first mover. 52 

^nay, th'%istrumente5 of chastninge, what bee^ they*? 
are they not Canons, ^irn, Steele?* Harshe essay 1 
^that suche feirce surgeons tooles shoold exercise 
on mans soft fieshe, kill-curinge buttcheries, bQ 

calld remedies. But if suche curinge kill, 
is not the remedie as badd as th' ill *? 
Algarsif, ah,^ wee twaine live by one fltather, 
^and bothe muste die of him,^ for ought I gather. 60 
nathlesse,"^ I knowe my fFather loveth mee, 
but what ifs love to mee prove hate^ to theel 



1-1 hath Fregiley beesigd, not wonn perdij, 

Yet whoe knowes not, that victors warr is warr, 
that still one syd^?, yf not both sydes doth marr ; 
say then my father winn, and raze this town, 
and fame, thearefore, doe blason his renown : 
Yet thear*? is losse in winnings, whear*? the host 
reckneth theire lives, whome victorie hath lost. 
yf then in warr wee kill our enimies, 
and leese om' frend«9s, are not these ioies sad prize ? 
Or sale they chastize Algarsif^ my brother, 
2—2 w/iich 2 are ^—"^ of ann 

5—0 and wheare such surgeons on flesh exercise, 
are they not hard-hart butchers remedies 1 
but what yf in the curinge him they kill ? 
is not that remedie as wurse as th' ill ? 
Ah, Algarsif/2 ! 
^—*^ and both through him must die, ^ howbeet ^ death 



Pt. VIIL] Canace prays for both Father and Brother, 121 



^I see my fathers ^ wellfare is tliy daunger, 

I see thy wellfare is my fathers ^ slaunder. 

I see his saftie and thine maie not bee, 

^but as Dylems or Contraries agree. ^ 

Yet if thow die the deathe, I live that liefe 

W/^.^'ch* dieth sisterlie with Algarsife." 

^So theare shee sobbd vntill this newe proiect 

gann thus out of these cruel warrs collect,^ 

" that warr as doubtfull is as it is cruel : 

wittnesse,^ as fyer of propertie seekes fewell, 

^to worke vppon (if it bee combustible), 

so warr, ire, fier, near purposd yet in idle. 

Nor dothe warr promise victorie to him 

Who activehe or passivelie beginn ; 

Nor th' innocent profferrs before th' nocent, 

savinge that th' innocent's more confident. 

Besides in th' chaunce of Warr, it so maie chaunce^ 

(if fortunes wheele plaie out her turninge daunce), 

^that my father (most deere) maie in this warr 

bee taen, or die, or hurt. Ah, bee these farr ! 

for if anie of these comm so to passe. 

Worse weare my case than hers that never was."^ 

tho wept shee bitterlie for thone and thother, 

^^and sweetlie prayd for father and for brother,^^ 



64 



Canace mourns 
the war between 
her Father and 
her Brother. 



Algarsife may die. 



68 



72 simileJ 



76 



80 



Cambusean may- 
be hurt or kild. 



84 



She prays for 
both. 



1—1 but well I see, his 2 mothers 

3—3 but as Dilemmaes captious disagree. * that 
^—5 tho theare shee sobbd and wept, till did collect, 
out of theas cruel warres, this trewe proiect : 
6 and that ^ q.}^i^ i^i j^gj^^ 
8—8 to worke vppon, of matter combustible, 
so neither warr nor fier doe purpose idle : 
nor Warr doth promise Victorie to him, 
whoe iustelie doth the iustest warr beginn. 
nor warr preferres the veriest innocent, 
more then to make him some what confident, 
but yf by chaunce of warr (as so maie chaunce), 
^—9 that my most deere-kind fi'ather, in this warr, 
maie taen bee, slaine or hurt, Ah, bee that farr : 
Or yf of thease, the wurst chaunce com to passe, 
I need^^s must com into the self*? same case." 
10—10 and still praid for her tfather deere and brothers. 



122 Cambuscans Cannonade of Fregiley. [Pt. VIIL 



Can ace prays for 
peace between lier 
Father and 
Motiier and her 
Brother. 



(f. 20 b) 



Cambiiscan's 
^ great battry^ 
of Fregiley. 



^begginge withall it bee (if it maie bee) 
in her to make sound peace twixt all the three ; 88 
much praisinge love (sweete peaces harbinger), 
meeke truithes, sterne Justices colliginer. 
But warr it selfe her gentile hart abhorrethe. 
for whie*? with it the Furies aye concurreth, 92 

vnlesse it bee Justices instrument, 
trespasses rasor, scurge, swoord, punishment ; 
and theare shee sighd, it knowinge well before 
that this iuste warr had t' pay Algarsifes skore. 96 

Addinge, " warr bettr is ended then begunn, 
sithe, once begunn, th' end none knoes vntill donn." 
eftsoones repraienge for ann happie end, 
did to thallmighties will all recommend. 100 

The while from morninges peepe till high midd 
noone,^ 
Cambuscans battringe^ Canons beat the towne 
at everie quarter, ^bothe from^ campe, sea, shore, 
whence^ greater battrie near was heard to rore ; 104 
6 so dilligent oft vttred and agen, 
by th' industries, swett spirited of valient men,^ 
"^that once begun, near had"^ to make ann end, 
till it demolishe all it dothe intend, 108 



-1 oft beggings, yf it possible mote bee, 

in her to make a good peace, twixt the three : 

much praisinge love (of peace the harbinger), 

mild truithes, sterne iustices kind foragers. 

but warr yt selfe her gentil hart abhorrd, 

in that with yt the Furies aye concurrd, 

but it bee iustices meere instrument, 

sinnes rasor, sourdg<?, swoord, drawn for punishment : 

tho sighd oft and againe, as earst afore, 

sith knewe, this warr woold paie Algarsifes skore. 

yt wishing^ better ended then begun, 

sith once begunn thend none knowes till yt donn ; 

with both palmes lifted for that happie end, 

praid, and to God did all in all commend. 

All this while, from the mornes peepe till high noone, 
2-2 om. in Ash. ^ roial ^—^ from the 

^ that ^"^ om. in Asli. 

^—7 w/itch once begun had not 



Pt. VIIL] Cambmcan 8 Cannonade of Fregiley. 123 

iplaieng«3 continualie botlie dale and niglit, 

till coolings time admitte.*? some small respight.^ 

2 but then afreshe as if all newe begunn, Cambuscan's can- 

. r«iiTi i-ir» "^'^ renew their 

rebnnges these canons foorth that back weare run, 112 firing. 

againe to plaie and never ceasse to play, 

till battrie all th' inhabitant's dissmaye,^ 

^And first his canons aymd th' aspiringe spire, 

wheare prowd Algarsifes standard flaunted higher^ 116 They brinj? down 

Algai'sife's flag. 

then anie towr or steeple of the towne, 

^and quicklie them requird to tatter downe ;^ 

^paringe theire house topps, pearcd theire earthen walls, 

wA^'ch mowldred into heapes, and soone downe falls : ^ 

^for gainst great canon shott theare is no sheild 121 

then^ that lesse force must to the greater yeeld. 

^whence greater cries mongst people near wear heard, 

wheare daunger in so manie formes appeard. 124 

so nowe deere-bought-witt by owne feelinge smart, 

examind neerer home their rebelled hart, » corrections 

forceP 

to graunt within them selves kinge Cambuscan 

is a most trewe, iust, kind, wise, valient man ; 128 Ti»e Fregiiian 

and that^ of pride and insolent selfe wille, ledge cambus- 

^they had^ deservd this seege and muche more ill ; 

i^In so muche that the most wishd present peace,i^ 



can's justice. 



1—^ continualie hott plajdng*? night and dale, 
small time of cooling*? givn (a litle staie) : 
2—2 4 lines om. in Ash. 
^~3 The Canonieres ayming^ at that prowd spire, 
wheare Algarsifes own standard flaunted hygher, 
4—4 w/iich prowd they quicklie mad^ to tatter down. 
^—^ 2 lines om. in Ash. 
^—^ for gainst such Canon shott theare was no sheild, but 
7—7 as witnessd the walles breaches, when they fell, 

theare shewd theirs strongest mountaines seavn did dwell, 
and weari? so pearcd as greater cries none heard, 
while Danger in so manie formes appeard : 
as now the seeged (of an infelt smart) 
examind neerer theirs rebellious hart, 
whoe now, vnbid, graunt that king^ Cambuscan, 
is a most loving*?, trewe-iust-valiant man, though they 
^—8 om. in Ash. ^—^ had well 

10—10 Vppon w^ich motives manie wishd for peac<?, 



124 



The Fregilians want Peace. [Pt. VIII. 



The Fregilian 
rebels pi-aise 
Cambuscan, 



136 



140 



144 



^people hood- 
■ivinckdjT 



^fchoughe peace weare never yefc obtaind by ease. ' 132 

6 powr of correction, if well extended, 

w/izch soone makes to obaye, and not contemned. 

Th' vnkind Fregiliens, wantinge Love wileare, 
spake w^ell of virtue now, though but for feare : 
naie, now collaucles Combuscans virtues all, 
w/z^'ch graunted that his force theire barter apall. 
a certaine signe, that virtues foes are faine 
it to agnize, for shame, or feare of paine ; 
and made as thoughe they woold to virtue cleve, 
yf Algarsife, theire chiefs?, woold give them leave ; 
and want peace, and grauntes (vnaskd) that peace weare better farr 
then the feirce yssues of vncertaine warr.^ 

Algarsife, heeriuge this, begann to thincke 

^the people (in short time) backe from him woold 

shrincke^ 

^sithe, male they their commaunders virtuous see, 

they also all will trulie virtuous bee.^ 148 

^Whearefore him beares like virtues nicitie, 

intermixt with virtues neutralitie : 

knowinge, bee sooner gettes whoe simulateth,^ 

-1 peace, never purchasd yet by idle ease ; 

w/iich heere provd that correction iust extended, 
doth soone make to obaie, and not contemned : 
for still Cambuscans Canons so paid home, 
as ment not leave one stone vppon a stone, 
nor engin on the walles, tie seaven mountes, 
for on that rest hee cast vp their*? accomptes. 
W/wch causd the townes men, Who lackd love wilear*?, 
to speake of love and Virtewe well, for fear<?, 
and now collaud Cambuscans Virtewes all, 
w/woh provd his forces now did them appall : 
a c^^rtaine sign, that Virtewes foes are faine 
her to agnize for shame, or fear/9 of paine. 
ann index that they virtuous woold becom??^, 
incase Algarsifes leave mote first bee wun ; 
concluding^? a bad peace wear^ better farr 

then the sharpe yssewes of revengefuU warr. 2— ^ om. in Ash. 
3__3 thvncertaine people back*? from him would shrinck*?, 
4—^ 2 lines om. i?t Ash. 
^—^ him, thearefor<5, beares like Virtewes nicitie, 

to weet, commixt with court calliditie, 

as knowings, sooner gettes that simulates 



Algarsife dissi- 
mulates. 



Pt. VIIL] Algarsife cheers Ids Men to fgU. 125 

itlien liee that churlislielie quite abnegatethe, 152 

Woold faine that all men slioold his actions deeme 
pure, virtuous, though a:ffected, but to seeuie. 

But hee and thother princes laboreth^ Aiprnrsife restores 

to reinforce what the campe demolisheth, 156 destroy. 

2 because wheart^ Canons puissance dothe mayme, 
nature craves fitt vtensilks to sustaine.^ ^ 

^Then sayd prince Algarsife, with smilinge grace, ^ audacity smm- 

,,. IT /IT' 'i-fx t nf\ ^a.teth fortitude 

vnto his soldiers (lookmge m his face), 160 & is followed.^ 

'' Yee spirited generous, resolve" (quoth hee), Aigarsife caiisou 

. . AT J c 11 his men to follow 

" m your luste cause stowtlie to lollowe mee, him. 

with hart, minde, and with vigor of all handes, 163 

Yea, with your vttmoste force, w7^^ch none withstandes : 

tusshe !^ w'are not borne to die like Katte^^ in holes. They are not rats 

and cowards, 

nor hide our header in darcke, with batten, and mowles, 

^ne bee suche cowardes, as vp kept at baye, 

while canon shott (vs luklesse borne) dothe slaye. 168 

'Noy wee bee men as they, and dare well meete 

all them who vex our walkes in our owne streete. 

and knowe they shall, ear daye, wee meane to fight, *^ but win fight. 

1—^ then not seeme so, and churlish abnegates ; 

but faine hee vvoold all should his actions deeme 
at virtuous pure : though but affect and seeme. 
on w/uch termes hee, and all his, laboreth 
2—2 fQY whear<3 and what the Canon bullettc^s mayme, 
natures Vtensile.'? must, eUes nought sustaine : 
2 Ashmole here inserts the foUoroing lines : — 

WAich donn Algarsif made out rodes of sallie, 
and bidd his counsell of warr not to dallie, 
but to distroie b' intention what distroies them, 
w/iich weare those canons, then w/iich nought more noj-es them, 
for that beside.9 they curve their libertie, 
they kill amid the sweetes whear^ dead they lye : 
4—'^ 07n. in Ash. 
^—^ did thearefore with a bold and knightlie grace, 
thus resolute! ie saye to his soldiers face : 

"Yee generous! hencefoorth resolve with mee, 
with all your vigors, hartes, hand<?s, stowt to bee ! for 
^—^ ne plaie such coward^^ as to stand at bay 
till Canon shott vs (luckles born) doe slay: 
no, for w' are men as they, and dar^ them meet*?, 
for barrings? of our walkes in our own street : 
shall thearefore knowe, ear dale, wee dare to fight, 



126 Algarsife is ivarnd not to fi()]tt by ]Si(jht. [Pt. VIIL 

^and our distresses by owne virtues quiglit. 172 

Saye then, if wee shall try't ; Sirrs, folio we mee, 
wheathr theire virtues or ours trewer bee ! " 
Aigarsife's The soldiers verie much lovd Algarsife, 

soldiers trust - 

}iim, and made his wronges theires, in theire owne belief f.^, 

saienge, that his example is the sterne 177 

that guides, and shall guide them, to learn and earn, 
(f. 21) Whearvppon, in each quarter, they prepare, 

and will fight. to charge the campes sodainlie and vnware.^ 180 

^apparition be- ^But lo, in droauie, this vision t' him appears, vz. 

fore battaile ^ 

seen by Aigarsife. auu aged-scemiuge Sior, wearinge white heairs, 

w/^^ch prefacd in his visage, veritie, 

and awd him straunglie, t' heere him seriouslie. 184 
He is to fight by ^^Algarsif " (quoth hee), "fight no nightes, for whie, 

day, not night. 

thow shalt by daie subdewe thine enimye, 

whoe, turninge frend, thee bindes, till him thow kill 

who lives : so sweare the destanies. ffarewell 1" 188 

That sayd, hee vanishd soone, agastinge all, 
whoe pondred, that fore Princes death, or fall, 
lande*' plage, states chaunge, or bloodie battailes losse, 
thighe powres (heavn^s elementes) hanges out the crosse, 
of misticke embleams, which, have to foretell, 193 

to reason, What sense hathe yet not to revel I. 

Aigarsife is rash, Howbcet, Algarsif^ fearlesse wox, and rasshe, 

praesuminge, courage all evented shoold passhe, 196 

and disregards ne rcckethc prophecies, or anagogies, 

the warning. i -n t l ^ • 

ne quemt amphibolies, or tropologies, 

but all his thoughtes flewe at his newe empire, 

ivMoh. hee termes honor (point of his aspire).^ 200 

^—1 and by our Virtewes, our distresses quite. 

saie then, Yf yee will fight, com followe mee ! 
to try w7wch of our Virtewes trewest bee." 

The soldiers, whoe so much lovd Aigarsife, 
as hopd his wrong*? could salve theirs false beliefs, 
soone graunt this his example is the stern 
them stears, Whoe rather had to earn boote, then learn : 
did thearefor^ in all quarters them prepare 
to charge the camp by night, and vnaware. 
^~2 Q^^i^ iji j^gji^ 3—3 20 I'mes oni. in Ash. 



Pt. VIIL] A NigU-attack on Cambiiscan's Camp. 127 
land so, in th' dead of night, lie passd the dike, The Fregiiians 

attack Cambus- 

praepard, resolvd, well armd, cruel alike, can's camp at 

to doe all mischifes, ear they weare discried. 

tho charging^, the Fregiliens lowdlie cried, 204 

in all fowre quarters of Camhuscans campe, 

that vnexpected feare mote dieper stampe.^ 

^N'athlesse, these false Fregiliens exclamation, ^saiiy outofy^ 

tonitruous vprores, lowd vociferation,^ 208 

^onlie awooke the men, w/^fch litle slept, 
or restinge, had their watch and wardes well kept.^ 
^but to th' alarum a like wellcomm sent, 
Camp vollies for town voUies, lent and ment.^ 212 TheCampfireon 

them. 

and,^ iust at thinstant, all the canons plaien 

■^from towne to Campe, from Camp to towne againe,"^ 

in suche ann horrid noise, and flaminge light, 

as if noone dale ^ weare wedded to midd night : 216 simiu.^ 

or as if th' pitchie clowdes of fulgrous heavn 

had taen their In vp,^ neath the spheres seaven. 

i^So now,^^ all quarters (plaienge out their quarters) The fight becomes 

i^chaungd worded for bloes, and thrust^'s for thrustes 

rebarters:!! 220 

■^2 till pikes, and pikes, whole troopes, and shockes of 

pikes, 
sidewise, and foreright, vibrant thrustes in strikes,^^ 

^—^ so, in the diepest darck^, passd the town dike, 
as merciles, as cruel], all alike, 
to massaker before they wear^ discried : 
and in the charg<?, as lowd as could, out cried, 
in all fo\yi'e quarters of Camhuscans campe, 
that sodaine feare mote dawnt as well as dampe. 

2—2 tliese 2 lines am. in Ash. ^-^ om, in Ash. 

^— * Yet this but wooke the men whoe little slept, 

Or sleeping<9, had their watch and wardes well kept, 

5—^ these 2 lines om. in As7i, ^ for 

7__7 fj.Qj^i campe to town, from town to campe againe ; 

^ om., in Ash. 

^—9 had lent her to midd night, and all the sulphrous clowdes of angrie 
heavn had taen their Indies vp, 

10—10 iQ viewe 

11—11 wheare wordes chaungd bloes, bloes for word^s rebarters 

12—12 t^i^gg 2 lines om. iii Ash. 



128 Gnartolite attacks Camhttscaris qitarters. [Pt. VIII. 



Cambuscnn's men 
shout "Ethel," 
** Canace." 



Gnartolite 
charges Cambus- 
can's quarters. 



6 guilt Jii^tJi' 
trialfi 



Oairibuscan slays 
rebels. 



^bothe parties charginge, till tli' fregiliens fell, 
and the Cambuscanites on them pell mell. 224 

Then theare wans roughest doll they freely dell, 
crienge, "Ethel, Canac;" ''Canac, Ethel." 

The verie names of Ethel and Canac 
causd the fregiliens all most leese the place, ^ 228 

2 had not Algarsifes statizers rann in, 
to putt some hope, wheare no hope was to winn. 
Thus all the quarters fower, in general, 
Weare trampling^ out warrs bloodie catterbrall,^ 232 
2 that vertue trewe gainste virtue false mote trie 
a trewe, iust, noblie earned victorie. 
, 'W/?2ch, in the darcke, mote hardlie well bee showen, 
On]ie the Leaders actes male yet bee knowen. 236 

ffor^ Gnartolite, who chargd Cambuscans quarter, 
^resolvd as many as hee could to martir,'^ 
^ whose soldiers, findings spoile, seazd all they wishe, 
beat^, by th' Cambuscanites vnto stocks ffishe.^ 240 
^for Gnartolite, when he Cumbuscan spide, 
spurrd on his soldiers, while selfe steppd a side, 
because he knewe, if Morliuo him mett,^ 
the kinge woold roialie paie all his debt. 244 

^ whose matchlesse swoord, vppon the Gnartolites, 
powrd out the large reward of hipochrites.^ 

1—1 on both sides givn, till the Fregiliens fell, 

to take vp what their vengeful! ffoes them dell 
of warres rough dole, vv/^ich deerlie seller and paies, 
some crying^, '^Etheel," some "Canace" displaies. 
whose verie names of Etheel and Canace 
mad^ the Fregiliens quicklie quitt the place, 
2—2 tJwse 4 lines om. in Ash, 

3_3 ^Qj, ^jieare trewe virtewe strove the false to trie, 
theare a trewe iust and noble Victorie 
was in the darck<?, as to the dale light showen, 
in th' Leaders actes ; wAich thus and thus weare known : false 
4—^ depravd all those hee caught, and them did marter ; 
5—5 these 2 lines oin. in Ash, ^-^ am, in Ash. 

7—7 yet when hee neere him, hut Cambuscan spied, 
eggd on his soldiers, but hee rann to hid6^, 
well knowing^ that yf Morlivo him mett, 

8—8 sith wheare hee lightes on anie Gnartolites, 
hee powrd on the reward of hypochrites, 



Pt. VIIL] Camhallo and Algarsife fight again, 129 

^witli takings some his prisoners, chacd tlie rest, 

who came for canons, but to winn them messt.^ 248 

2 ^'Sirrah," quoth Cambuscan (in heate) to him, Cambuscan 

1 i» T 1 , ' threatens an at- 

" none oi your worckes ot clarknes, see to wmn ; tack at midday. 

but knowe and bee't well known, to all your town, 
He visits yee by daye, yea at highe noone." 252 

Gnartolite sooiie telks what the kinge had sayd, ^ thris y twae 

valiant Irrothers 

which vene muche the guiltie towne dismayd. fought.^ 

Algarsife, who had chargd on Camballs quarter 
(beinge the third time), that no furious tartar 256 

eare shewd more greedines to winn that game, 
w7w*ch warr dothe killinge call, or to bee taen. 
yet still those martial breathern deadlie fought, 259 Cambaiioand 
till bothe their pikes weare broke, and swoordes flew out, fiercely, 
most feircelie hissinge, percinge, cutting^, stasshinge, 
in that same stile wJdch. death endites to crasshinge, 
faste grapled weare this paire in mutual locke, (f. 21b) 

and strove to bringe thone vnder thothers yocke.^ 264 
^ bothe fastned, bothe fast, like fell mastiffs twaine, simiie^ 

w/w'ch hold fast eithers hold, to neithers gaine.^ 

^Amid this combatt in Cambuscan cam, 
which Algarsife perceavinge, loosd and rann,^ 268 Aigarsife flees. 

1—1 these 2 lines om., in Ash, 
2—2 thus crying<? to them, as they fled from him, 

" thease workes of youres of darckoes, this shall win, 

that I will enter on your rebell town, 

by daie, not night : Yea, at the point of noon." 
Of w/iich bold thrett Gnartolit<? made report, 

w/iich much dismaid all of the guiltie court. 

Algarsif chardgd home into Camball's quarter, 

with pikes so vibrant, as yet never Tartar 

expressd more greedines to winn that game 

that warr doth killing*? call, Or to bee tane : 

for both thease brothers breathles deadlie fought, 

till both theire pikes weare broke, & swoorde^s flewe out, 

both closelie grapling<:^ with a mutual locki?, 

that one should vndergoe annothers yoke. 
^—3 oni. in Ash, * om.. in Ash. ^—^ these 2 lines om. in Ash. 
^—6 Cambuscan runing^ in amid the fray, 

which Algarsife perceavinge, rann away, 

fearinge; Ducello, least to bapprehended, 

might on the sodaine all the busines ended. 
LANE. K 



130 



Binato (Cambus- 
canite) pats Hor- 
bello (Algarsifite) 
to flight. 



5 popular sur- 



Algai'sife's ad- 
miral 



attacks Cambus- 
caa's by land and 



Camhuscans Admiral is attackt, [Pt. VIII. 

^ to scape by flight. Yet prisoners theare weare taken 
of those who had Cambuscans syde forsaken.^ 

But Binate with Horbello so contended, 
2 as all the world su[s]pected none mote mend it.^ 272 
^for hee the chawffinge giant put to flight, 
and, thought t weare darcke, he sawe to hitt him right. ^ 
^for whie? a messenger bio we at his head, 
assurd Binate he had that monster spedd. 276 

and in the chace some of his prisoners tooke, 
the rest for feare did back warden ne^er looke. 

Akafirs quarter was the more envied, 
for that old prophecie praesignif yed , 280 

how, by the south wind, a north tyde should drowne, 
and burne vp (bothe at once) Fregilia town ;* 
and after the north wind had cleerd the weather, 
^a woman queene shoold theare commaund forever. 284 
w/w'ch galld Leif Lirco to the verie hart, 
so that hee vsd all violence and art 
which, laie in false Yideriaes fallecies, 
to crosse, or disappoint the destanies. 288 

Whearefore hee sett on Akafir twoe waies, 
by land and sea ; yet Akafirs arraies ^ 



I— 1 some others in the chace weare prisoners taken, 
hemge of those had Cambuscan forsaken. 

2—2 as all the world needes litle wish it mended. 
2—^ these 2 Imes ovi. in Ash, 

*-^ for singling^ such a stroke vppou his head, 
as theareof tumbling*?, vp was tane for dead. 

The rest gainst Aquaphir (whome thenvied most) 
fought, Off to keepe him from the sowthern coast, 
for that, by prophecie, thence should com down 
a sea, should drown and burn Fregilea town ; 
^— ^ 07)1. 'm Ash. 

6—^ a maid in Faerie Land should raign for ever : 
nought being<? so much feard in anie Land, 
as hee or shee, that theare shall all commaund. 
Which so galld Leyfurck^ to the verie hart, 
as thearefore vsd all violence and art, 
w/wch lay in vile Videreaes venefies, 
to crosse and disappoint the destanies. 

whearefore by land and sea, chardgd Aquaphir, 
whose bold livetenent ventring^ out too farr, 



Pt. VIIL] One of Cambiisccms Knights is illdreated, 131 

^made good the streetes, and held them for their 

waies, 
to his and to his soldiers raf tinge praise.^ 292 

^thoughe of his leaders one they prisoner caught,^ 
whome the Fregiliens handled worse then naught, ^fowi quarter 

^with tauntes disgracfull, and fowle indecore,^ 
w/i^'ch martial virtue ever did abhore : 296 

^for professd soldiers^ reverencd weare of old 
as vices scurdges, virtues anchor hold. 
^ whence that profession otherwise to vse, 
is but presumptuouslie it to traduce. 300 

but each good soldier, if by fortune taen, 
was fairelie held, as of the sonns of fame. 

But they this leader to the vaughouse bore, The Fregiiians 

wheare leavinge lawes of armes without the dore, 304 cambuscan's 
how cowardice, how feare, how crueltie "'^ ' ^* 

abusd his rancke, let silence put it bye : 
not meaninge to provoke good soldiers ire, 
when indigne passages they read or hier. 308 

Eetraite once made, as well in towne as feild, retrain 

Wearines did some litle respite yeild, 
till earlie Titans drowsye countenance 
disclosd new light : light did new matters vaunce.^ 312 
^fFor, by dales prime, the camps rathe soldiers 

. T . T T . , . . Cambuscan's 

survaied with sharpest eies theire prisoners, prisoners.^ 

Whoe, beinge viewd by dale light, weare well known 
to have servd once on this side, though e now flown : 
]N'aie, some had twice, some thrice, had rann awaye,^ 317 

1—1 these 2 lines om. in Ash. 
2—2 chauncd by his enimies theare to be caught ; 3—3 ^;;j^ j^,^ j^^j^^ 
*— 4 with all reprooh, foule termes, scorn, indecore, 
^— ^ in that trewe soldiers ^— ^ these 14 lines om. in Ash. 

7 om. in Ash. 
8-8 w/i'ich known by dales peepe, the campes soldiers 
servaied all theire Fregilien prisoners, 
mongst whome apparantlie weare found and known 
some that had servd on this sidd? (as theire own), 
some once or twice, some thrice had run awale, 
^ om-. in Ash. 

K 2 



132 Camhuscaris Deserters are condemnd, [Pt. VIII. 



The rebel De- 
serters from 
CainbiiRcnn an 
condemnd. 



'punished.'^ 



Cambuscan says 
that 



Icillinpf men 
doesn't win their 
hearts. 



^ after th'ad sworne, and tooke Cambuscans pay. 

At these th' whole host out roerd, and traiters howted; 

naie more, each soldiers boy theire basenes flowted.^ 

2 Wheareat these (seeminge boies theire falshode knewe) 

for shame (farr passing<? feare) hnnge th'ead, tonges 

gnewe.^ 322 

^But now the martial Captaines Court down sate, 
to punishe peremptorilie theire fault, 324 

sithe findings some of th' prisoners weare known spies,^ 
some revolted, some relapsd, all enimies, 
^ whose aggravated faultes by doinge ofte 
of pardons hope! esse weare, JN^or weare they sought. 328 

So these condemnd, thence garded weare to dye, 
lothd, skornd, revild, cursd of th' vulgaritie. 

WMoh. Cambuscan knewe b' Amidis his page, 
and tlieareof thus disputes in his courage : 332 

" What conquest ist " (quoth hee) " to vanquishe foes, 
if I, by killinge them, theire hartes doe lose % 
but everie mastrie makes not victorie, 
vnlesse the hart be vanquishd willingiie ; 336 

nor force alone cann stowtest hartes subdewe/*^ 



1—1 though to Cambuscan sworn, and taen his pale ; 
thearefore the market bell them traiters howted, 
and everie soldiers boie theirs basenes flowted ; 
2—2 ikei^e 2 lines oiii. in Ash. 

3—3 0n whome the court of Captaines presentlie 
sate to condemne them peremptorely, 
sith found some of them turnecotes, villaine spies, 

5—^ could not but aggrevat*? their faultes, sith oft 

weare pardonlesse, nor weare theirs pardons sought, 
wheare martial lawe doth presentlie dispatch, 
with processe short, whome yt doth haynous catch, 
and so condemnd wear^ garded thence to die, 
cursd, hated, scorn d of the Vulgaritie. 

All v^hiah Cambuscan knowings' by his page, 
did theareof thus dispute? in his courage, 
that it no conquest is to vanquish foes, 
in case the conquerer theire hartes doe lose ; 
for that such conquest makes not victorie, 
vnlesse the hart bee also vanquishd by : 
nor though constraint cannot siowt hartes subdewe, 



Pt. VIIL] Camhuscan forgives the ccqjtioe Fregilians, 133 



to the place of 
execution, 



^but stowborne hartes may yeeld to meeke virtue. 

He try th' conclusion, wlieatlier force or love cambuscun goes 

have greater force sterne soldiers bartes to move. 

but this shalb' of Cambuscans ov^^ne trophies, 

by love t' have mastred all his enimies." 

So, to the place of exequution cominge, 

the soldiers, seeinge it, sett vp a ronninge, 

Wheare hee to th' prisoners said thus, ear 

die, 
*' Whie d'yee, Fregiliens, falselye from niee fiye? 
ioine with my enimies % my state betray % 
as if your last howr weare not iustice day." 348 

''Good Lord" (quoth they), ''wee have donn worse 
then this, 
but lett our deathes amended make for our misse, 
sithe wee have nought elles left then deathe 



340 



344 

they 



appeals to tlie 
Fregiliaii rebels 



(f. 22) 



paye, 



to 



352 



w/i/ch death is trewe and iuste, wee note denaie.'^ 

so, beinge readie to turne off the ladder 

(deaths articl' infectinge tV beholders sadder), 

" Com downe," Cambuscan sayd, " yee I forgive ; 

and if it bee your chaunce yet longer t' live,^ 356 



and then forgives 
them. 



2 vnexpected 
lenity.^ 



1—1 yet meeke love male the stowtesfc hart<^s make bowe. 
I therefore prooff will mak^, yf force or love, 
have greatest powr, stowt soldiers hartes to move, 
but this shall of Cambuscans trophies bee, 
by love, not force, to vanquish enmitee. 

Tho, to the place of exequution comings?, 

the soldiers (touchd heerein) sett vp a runing^, 
to heere him tax the prisoners ear they die : 

" Fregiliens ! " quoth hee, " whie d'yee from mee fly ? 
ioine with mine enimies, my state betraie, 
as yf no iustice weare, nor had to paie ? " 

" Good lord," they said, " wee have don wurse then this, 
Lett thearefore deathes stroke satisfie our misse, 
wee havinge nought elles left, but death to paie, 
w7(f.ich death is iust, wee never cann denaie." 
at w/tich confession, w/tich made all men sadder, 
they beinge readie to turne off the laddere, 

Cambuscan said, " com down ! I yee forgive : 
and yf yt bee your chaunce your times to live, 
2—2 om, in Ash. 



134 Fregilians hang a captive Carnhmcanite. [Pt. VIII. 

^ Yee maie at leasure once remember liim 
Whoe could, yet woold not, kill yee for your synn.^ 
2'but doe no more (if yee doe after mee), 
least love convert to iust severitie."^ 360 

cambusean's ^Heereat th' whole hoste cried out, "God save the 

army ratify liis . 

mercy, klUgC, 

heavns hoUowe vawlt his honors ecchoinge. 

The ioifull pardned ones could vowe no lesse 
then hartes, lives, deathes, all to his services. 364 

others bethought them that this noble scheone [?] 
instancd Canac, and Ethelta the queene. 
the fame wheareof spred to Fregilia towne, 
and the Fregiiians and to the pcoplc, who told liis liighe rcuowne, 368 

appreciate it. . i i i i • 

saienge : ^^Tis not yond noble kinges intent 
to kill his sinninge subiectes that repent." 

Gnartolite and Leifurco this envied, 
for his virtue theire malice multiplied, 372 

throughe false Videria, for (to his dispight) 
^faire quarter they huuge the prisoner vp they tooke last night. 

broken.^ 

The Fregiiian Oh, hciuous dcedc ! for ev'u this lawlesse action 

buscan's knight, blcwe vp in all the towne a fowle distraction,^ 376 

1—1 Yee by this token maie remember him, 

that could, yet would not, kill yee for your sinn." 
2—2 tJwse 2 lines om. in Ask. 
3—3 Wheareat th' whole armie cried, " God save the king*? I '' 
his honor vp to heaven ecchoinge, 
and the sad pardoned, glad, did vow no lesse 
then theire whole lives and deathes to his services. 

the rest conceavd this noble act and scene, 
Did instance Canace, and Etheel the Queene. 

The fame wheareof, flown to Fregilea town, 
causd that the people said (to his renown), 
• " it is not of our lovinge kinges intent, 
to kill his subiect<?5, that are penitent : 
so maie wee doe and live, woold Algarsive 
and his state setters, all vs thus reprive." 

but this Leyfurck<? and Gnartolite envied 
(as it his popular love multiplied), 
whearefore, through vile Videreaes pride and spight, 
they hunge the soldiers vp weare taen last night : 

a lawlesse deede, for w/iich a fowle distraction 
rose in the town, evn to ann insurrection, 
'1—4 om, in Ash. 



Pt. VIIL] The Fregiliam discontent at the Hanging, 135 

^specialie mongst the soldiers, whoe protested Aigarsife's 

T „ r « 1 1 o 1 11 soldiers protest 

against the fact, w/z^ch lawe oi armes detested.^ against lumgiug a 

^sayenge ; " faire warrs are gone (faire quarter broke)," 
so swore noold fight no more, least like rope and 

stroke 
bee quitt on them per talionis Legem, 381 

as barbarouslie begun is, per ilke stetemen. 

'Gainste this Algarsife negativelie contestethe, ^faction in y^ 

sithe beinge a fact that th' soldiers all infesteth.^ 384 so does Aigarsife. 
and swore it was dishonorablie donn, 
^naie, worse, improvidentlie now begonn, 
now, while as th' kinges host stoode before their face, 
and cann, or maie, revenge this malice base : 388 

addinge withall, " this chokes all hopes of peace,^ 
SYliioh. mote the warrs on fitt conditions cease ; 
so dothe it quenche that soldierHe delight 
^of virtue fightinge, or like virtue bright." 392 

**Whie then," quoth Leifurcke, Gnartolite and Hor- But his Generals 

justify it, 

bell, 
vnto Aigarsife : " w' vnderstand you well, 
that now y' are weerie of your charge and paines ;^ 
if so, then when you liste, laie downe the raignes, 396 and suggest lus 

abdication. 

^and wee 1 take t on vs.^ Ells, whie comm wee hither 
but t' hold the towne, by all waies^ whatsoever, 

i~i these 2 lines om. in Ash. 
2—2 wMcb said, ''faire warres are gonn, faire quarter brolvt?, 
whearefor^, wee'l fight no more for the like yolie : 
for talionis lex maie doe the same 
wee others doe to others, to our shame." 

Against which act (that all the town infesteth) 
prince Algarsif<9 negativelie contesteth. 
^—3 om. in Ash. 
4—4 a yga^^ most improvidentlie then begun, 

when the kingds armie lies before our<? face, 
and maie revenge this on our malice base ; " 
Yea, vouchd that this tooke hence all hopes of peacd, 
^ ^ of virtuous fighting<?, Or like virtuous right, 

'* then," said Gnartolyte, Leyfurck<?, & Orbell, 
" Algarsif6^ ! now wee vnderstand you well, 
that you wax wearie of your charge and paines ; 
^— ^ that we maie take them ^ meanes 



136 Viderea is discontented loith Algarsife. [Pt. VIII. 
Ai^arsife's Gen- for what caie wee for anietyrannie, 

erals justify their 

killing their cap- wMle wee stand full possessd of tli'empirie/ 400 

tive. 

^and not one^ eminent to take offense, 
^or rise for Virtue 'gainst^ our insolence 1 
^Sir, shall wee not kill one^ yes, everie one 
that on our groundes leaves no stone on a stone ;^ 404 
but^ wee muste weaken him (bee't^ wronge or 
right)." 

Aigarsife reproves ''^ But that" (quoth^ Algarsife) " becoms no knight, 
^twas Achills feare draggd Hector, when him slewe, 
some courage in his mermidons t' renewe.^ 408 

^but I suche^ chivalrie still hate, and will, 
wA^'ch^^ thin ekes not it dothe well when it doth ill. 
^^sithe to contende against apparant right, 
dothe in-lie give the lye to mental light.^^ 412 

nor will I leave my charge, but vnderstande yee, 
1^1 will in this same fasshion aye conimaund yee.''^^ 
y^ witGh prac Videria, skulkinge^^ neere, arroundes their ears, 

and praid them marcke how him Algarsife beares, 416 

Viderea stirs up i^^^fQ^." (quoth slice) " doc but marcke (beet daye or 

discontent against 

Algarsife. night) 

if once hee comm within his parentis sight, 

and not hange downe the head, or balke the place ; 

but in this cause near looke him in the face.''^^ 420 



ttsethJ 



1 Ash. here ' 

we having*? gott all arbitrarie swaie, 
that self<3 will, libertie, ambition, male, 
2—2 and leave no ^~^ or leack the peopl against 

4—* these 2 lines om. in Ash. and the following insm^ted : — 
then th' more wee kill the lesse remaine to anoie vs ; 
besid^Js, thexampl agast^^ all woold distroy vs. 
5 for 6 beeyt ^-t «ha! that "said 

8-8 these 2 lines om. in Ash. ^~^ for I that ^^ that 

11—11 but to strive and not have a seeming^ right 
doth inly give the lie to conscious light, 
12—12 I y^\\\ \^ i\^Q same manner still commaund yee. i^ beinge 

14—14 Q^ji^ ifi j^sh. 
15—16 "for," quoth shee, "Doth hee not (bee't dale or night), 
yf happs to com within his ffathers sight, 
hung^ down the head, recoile, or balke the place, 
and, gainst the right, near^ lopke him in the face 1 " 



Pt. VIIL] Cambuscan orders an attack on Fregiley, 137 



^Theie vowd they woold. 
campe 



But 16, from off the 



Cambuscan, 



to revenge his 
knight's murder. 



newe dale light taught them wheare the soldiers 

ramp, 

in troops selected, for some praesent gard, 

charge, or supplie, w7^^'ch the Fregiliens feard.^ 424 

^E'ow, so it chauncd after some sleapes repaste, 

Cambuscan, wearinge then about his waste 

his brazen horses bridle, as hee did,^ 

when servd on fote, and not on horsebacks ridd, 428 

bethought revenge ^on thilke^ indignitie 

of hangings vp his knight^ in Fregelie. 

^ Tho, castinge how to serve on horse and f oote, 

bidden battries all, and musketes wholie shoote, 432 

and make smoothe worke of th' seaun mountes & the orders a fresh at- 
tack on Fregilev. 
towne. 

So gettinge vp, he quicklie trode the rowne^ 

from east to west, ^from th' north ^ vnto the south, 

''and crie"^ revenge, w7iz*ch pleasd the soldiers tooth. 436 

The trenches alP full mand with muskettiers, 

the barricadoes with sure^^ canoniers, 

the plottformes with toughe^^ laborers, 

th' artillerie with swettie^^ pi oners. 

i^barrelks of powder serpentine brought out, 

heapes of whole canon buUettes to distrowte,^^ 

and everie officer w/zj^'ch^* ought attende 



(f. 22 b) 

8 reveng wheare 
quarter is 
hrokenfi 



440 The batteries pre- 
pare. 



1—1 these 4 lines om. i7i Ash. 
2—2 They swore they woold. And so, when night wa,s past, 
Cambuscan wearing^ rownd his wast 
his brasse horse bridle, as hee ever did, 

3—3 for that * knightes 

5—^ and to encourage all his soldiers toot 

hee first bid all his battries boldly shoote, 
to make smooth worke of the seavn mountes & town, 
him self(5 the while oft visiting^ the rown, 
^-6 from North 7—7 t' incite ^-^ om. in Ash. ^ are 

1^ good 11 score of tough 12 lustie 

13—13 barrelled of powder, serpentine, are brought, 
and heapes of canon, buffettes, that distrought, 
14 that 



138 Camhuscans bombardment of Fregiley. [Pt. VIII, IX. 



^gi*eat hattry 
madefi 



Fregiley is bom- 
barded by Cam- 



buscan, 



who says he will 
leave bo stone of 
it on another. 



Part IX. 
Algarsife is 
imprisond, 
and Cambuscan 
slain. 



^stoode readie prest best services to spend. 444 

So theare out flies the roringst batterie^ 
on all the towne and mountes of Fregiley ; 
tire after tire, vollie on vollie ofte, 
^at each mount, walls peece, corner, lowe and loft, 448 
that nought theire force withstandes, nor count^s their 

number, 
w7^^ch quatte^ the townes men, makes them hide them 

vnder :^ 
^Yet they with great and small shott still replye, 
hitt or hitt not, voUies of muskette.s^ fiye.^ 452 

and 5 all supplies that mote bee hadd or thought, 
^weare to the battrie plentifullie brought. 
all th' earth, aier, sea (to th' midle region), seeminge 
smoke, fyer, noise, cries, in bundled clowde^ vp steem- 

inge ; 456 

w/n'ch dreadfull battrye, by Camhuscans doome, 
had not to give ore till too morrowe noone : 
but all their groundworkes hee will beate to duste, 
and leave no stone vppon a stone to ruste.^ 460 

Canto none, 
Fregiliaes battred; and^ b' assault neere taen : 

Videriaes practise prisoneth Algarsife ; 
Cambuscan, by her ^treason eake is slane; 

Amidis buries him,^ with Love and grief e. 

1—1 stood readie, theirs best services to spend. 
So thear^ on flewe the roringst batter ie, 

2—2 Qrfy^^ l^ Ash. 

3—^ at each monnt, wsd]es peece, flancker, pane, lowe loft, 

as nought theire force withstand*?^, ne counter theirs? numh^v, 
w/iich quattes the townes men, closely hidings vnder^ : 
4—4 these 2 lines om. in Ash. ^ whear«? 

^— ^ so plentiously wear6^ to the battrie brought, 

as thearth and th' aier, to the midle region seemd 
one smoke and fyer^ of a kinges wrath entind. 
and yet the battrie by Camhuscans doome, 
had not to ceasse vntill too morrowe noone, 
not till hee had their ground workes beat to dust, 
and not one stone left on a stone to trusts. 
7 is 8—8 treasonous art is slaine, whome Amidis interrs 



Pt. IX.] Fregiley is lev eld with the ground. 139 

^The drowsie sonn (morn's^ mind sicke murner) rose, 
and at his north east casement sadlie shoes 
a great survaie of last nightes batteries, 
2 W7^^ch f ewe wordes mote somm vp : " L5 ! wheare it 
lies.'* 4 

L6 ! wheare Fregiliaes statelie palaces, ^ y^ towne beaten 

. smooth down.^ 

her bewteous temples, highe piramides, 

aspiringe pinackles, perpolishd towres, Fregiiey and aii 

her curious arches, trophies (honors dowres), 8 leveia with the 

her glorious buildinges, high waller, circuite stronge, ^'^^^^ * 
L6, how fewe howrs have laid them all alonge. 

her proud plumes pulld, her avarice disdain d, 
her envies crussbd, ber murdrous rage araignd,^ 12 

her glotonies, her letcheries cutt off, 
her mincinge idlers forcd to runn alooff, 
^her artishe Hers, wittie versute theeves,^ 

her fraudulent suggestions (for belives). 16 ah its shams are 

her painted truith,^ her vermild modestie, 
her vaunted faith, ^ subornd idolatrie,^ 
her farr fetcht proiectes to prevent the good, 
her false claimd petegrees t'inskrewe her blood, 20 

"^her eloquence, her sugred adulation, 
her confidence, her daringe protestation, 
her possessd greatnes, vpstart vsurpation, 
her bold presumption, boilinge emulation -J 24 

i_i r^YiQ purple sonn (nightes 
2—2 vfMah. now laie ope, whear<? prowd Fregilea lies 
with all her start vp statelie palaces, 
her factious temples, prowd pyramides, 
her curious arches (trophies of her powres), 
aspiringe pinacles, perpolisht towres, 
her glorious buildinges, high walles, bullwarckes stronge, 
all w^ich a few howres shott have laid alonge ; 
her prowd plumes pulld, her avarices maymd, 
her envies crushd, her raginge murder araignd, 
2-3 om. in Ash. *— * her artskilld liers, virsute coninge thieves, 
^ troth 6—^ suborned veritie, 

7—7 her eloquence, violence, adulation, 

her counterfeatinge, fayninge, protestation, 
her greatnes stoln, her duble vsurpation, 
her bold presumption storm inge castigation. 



140 The Fregilians fear Camhuscaris assault. [Pt. IX. 



The Fregilians 
seek shelter. 



Lo, time, the feathomer of wittes and spoile, 
hathe flunge all^ in ann heape, for men to smile. 
2 as fast, at first, as the Fregiliens lyed, 
so faster, now, they rann theire heade^^ to hyde 28 

from the devowringe canons mowth, that weetes 
all vnderground and bove, if in the streetes 
no bnllwarcke, mount, trench, celler, wall, ne rocke, 
ne ere vis of excuse, hides from the knocke. 32 

cambuscan's can- Yet all the canons still gann shoot e and plaie, 

nonade continues. 

for Camhuscan commaundes it, till midd daie. 

Scarce mote bee told, the great calamitie 
W/^^ch this bad peopF endewrd in Fregiley, 36 

Wheare, dares not once peepe out, for Canons daunger, 
least musket shott arrest eake everie raunger. 
^truithforfeare Besides w/i/ch perilled, yet the future feare 

of ann assault (att hand), theire hartes doth p] teare. 
and yet this moste aiEictes their amblinge minde, 41 
that a good kinge (loving^ good thinges designd) 
shoold plage and kill them thus : Howbeet they swore, 
hee had donn all thinges well, though e hee doe 
more; 2 44 

^saienge, his virtues they doe honor still, 
and love t' expresse it, mote they have own will.^ 



The Fregilians 
fear an assault 
from Cambus- 
can's army. 



1 thease 

2—2 wheare looke how fast, at first, the Rebells nyed, 
so fast and faster now they rann to hid<?, 
from the devowringe canon that them splitter, 
all vnderground, and on them in the streetes 
so as no biillwarke, mount, trench, wall, pale, rocke, 
or crevis of excuse, them hides from knocks ; 
Yet still on Yonge and old the Canons plaie, 
for so Camhuscan bid till mid of daie. 

When scarce mote tell the paine of penurie, 
W7^^ch all the people felt in Fregiley ; 
wheareto came eake ann vniversal feare 
of ann assault, w/iich more hath to deteare : 
nought more afiflictinge theire revolted minder, 
then that a good kinge (lovinge good desindes) 
should plage and kill them thus. Nathles, they swore, 
hee had donn all but iust, though hee doe more ; 

3—3 07)1. in Ash. *~* these 2 lines om. in Ash. 



Pt. IX.] Algarsife fortifies the Market-place. 141 

1 these bee the men woold have all good them done, 

and promise kepte to them, but will keepe none.^ 48 

2 a courtinge love, inheriting^ the grace, some Freguians 

of laughinge in ones throte, to cutt his face. 

beinge of those binn soone loste, quicklie wonn, ff. 23) 

Virtuous example makinge loste ones comm. 52 

not so of stattlinges. But kinge Cambuscan, praise cambus- 

can. 

theire hartes, throughe his late clemencie so wann,^ 

^as that this folke (of virtues love in breste) 

could not find theare theire kinge how to resiste,^ 6Q 

^but blasd his virtues so, in everie part, 

as made the townes all statistes calme in hart. 

Wheareat Algarsif^, their stowt General, 5 ye breach rem- 

perplext at his stronge walls and mounte'^ down fall, 60 
tangled the breach with benches, chaires, blocker, Aigarsife repairs 

his walls, 

timber, 
th' assailantes entries, evrie wheare to hinder, 
incastinge stooles, ropes, froes, chaines,' manors, bedde^^, 
and all trassh whatsoever, none oretreddes. 64 

but chifelie fortified the market place, and fortifies his 

to the church path, to helpe, repulse or chace,^ 

^—^ these 2 lines om. in Asli. 

2—2 and swore they lovd him, but with that court grace 
that laughes in a mans throte, and cutt^s his face, 
yf then all fear^ doth first proceed from love, 
heer^ is to thinck^, love doth this people move ; 
for though they soone ar^ lost and quicklie wun, 
yet them (not madd) examples good mak^ com : 
as plainelie was to see, when Cambuscan, 
by his late clemencie theire hartes to him wan. 
^— ^ these 2 lines om. in Ash. 

4—4 for w/tich they so did blase his high desert, 
as evn the state it selfc^ did theareat start. 

w/tich so perplexd Algars (theire general), 
as seeing^ now his walles and mount^s down fall, 
tangled the breach with froes, church dores, stones, timber, 
thassailant6'5 en trie everie whear*? to hinder ; 
in castingtf ropes, chaires, stalles, furmes, grates, & bedd^.?, 
land^5, fees, bribes, and all trash that fevve ore tredd<?5 ; 
and fortified with thease the market place, 
for safe retrait vppon repulse or cbace. 
^—^ om' in Ash. 



Algarsife is at 
every point of 
danger, 



142 Algarsife prepares the defence of Fregiley, [Pt. IX. 

^Well plant^s the gapps wtth cliambred-iTon slinges, 

that the first entrers mote breake shinns and limhes.^ 

2 so theare was no place w/wch did reskewe neede, 69 

but heere and theare Algarsif rann with speedej^ 

proposinge danger for his meede of glorie, 

2 that no base cowardise ecclips his storie^: 72 

^ne bee out reachd at versute pollecie, 

or once out runn at hardie chivalrie;^ 

^soothinge his cause, that brave thinges ill begun?2 

standes recompensd, if held out till rewonn. 76 

and holdinge obstinacie by dispute, 

to bee trewe virtue if once resolute.^ 

^Wheareto, his soundest reason was his swoorde, 

maintaind by greatnes (gracinge well th' absurd) ; 80 

for faction, properlie, holde.§ her intent, 

wheather it bee by swoord or argument.^ 

so that a man mote of Algarsife saye, 

''and of his stowt defense of Fregiley, 84 

a worser cause near better was defended, 

save that of Troy, by Hector, till hee ended. 

Midd noone drawes neere ; the canons Yet ne 
rest, 
but now Cambuscan all those troopes addrest, %% 

^Nliiah. firste shoold force the breach att everie quarter," 



upholding 
cause, 



and resolvd to 
figlit. 



^asismdt to y- 
towne^ 



Cambuscan ad- 
dresses Ills men. 



1—1 these 2 lines om. in Ash, 
2—2 Nor was theare place whear^? benifit^; mote dwell, 
but that Algarsife rann to gard that well, 
2—3 so as no cowardic<9 eclips his storie : 
^— ^ these 2 lines om. in A sh. 
o— 5 selfe soothinge thus, that brave warres ill begun 
stand recompenced, yf held from never wun ; 
and deemd such stowbornes by this dispute, 
to bee trewe, virtuous, yf once resolute : 
^—6 these 4 lines om. in Ash. 
''— ^ and of his disobedient Fregiley, 

that a wurse cause was better neare defended, 
save that of Troy, whear^ manie gallant<?5 ended. 

But noone is comd, yet did no canon rest, 
what time Cambuscan such elect adrest, 
as first should force the breach at everie quarter, 
8—8 f)^^ i^ Ash. 



Pt. IX.] Camhuscan cheers his men to assault Fregiley, 143 

^With valient secondes, placd to recharge after. cambuscan's 

Captaines, Liuetenentes, Ensignes, officers, for the assault on 

all soldiers fullie armd, them selves besterrs, 92 

t' expect the march to charge, when please y® drums, 

so soone as from the kinge direction coms. 

All men have praid, and them to god commended, 

private debates amongst them frendlie ended ; 96 

theire mistresse colors worne neere topp of pikes, 

to prove that wronge, w?^^ch theare, to right, they strikes. 

Quicklie the kinge from all th' camps quarters came, cambuscan ex- 
and cheerlie now biddes all men write theire name, 100 do valiantly. 
With resolute, owne handes, in that highe rowl 
of famous deedes, eternizinge the soule : ^ 
and vowd reward, accordinge as theire actes 
2 his deere lovd Ethel and Canac respectes. 104 

onlie biddes meete him, midle of the towne, 
so theare shall winn of cittisens th' renowne. 

They vowd all faithfullie they woold saunce faile, 
and so expected the signale of battaile. 108 

N'ow, false A^leria, wishd att anie hand, -^y^ witches trea- 

they shoold the kinges owne person first withstand, ^ 

1—1 and vahent second(9s placd to charg<? in after : 
tho Captaines, Ensignes, and all Officers, 
Liuetenentes, Soldiers, them (full armd) beesterrs, 
as soone to march and charge as bidd the drumes, 
when sodainelie fro th' king^ direction comes : 
all havings praid, and them to god commended, 
all private bates forgivn, and frendlie ended, 
their<9 mistresse colors dond on the pointe.s* of pikes, 
to prove each for their*? sakes the harder strikes. 

thus readie Cambuscan to all quarters came, 
and cheerlie bid each one to write his name, 
with his own resolute hand in that rowl, * 
that hath t' eternijje the trivmphant sowl ; 
2—2 his queene Etheelta and Canace respect6^s: 
but bidd<?s them all meete him midd the town, 
whear(9 hee will make them free men with renown. 

w/woh faithfullie they vowd, and to assaile, 
they stand expecting^ th' signal of battaile. 

While false Videria wishd (at anie hand) 
bove all thinges, the kinges person to withstand ; 
2—3 om. in A ah. 



144 Algarsifes Preparations for Defence , [Pt. IX. 

^and taught that in his brave repulse did lie 
the maine staie, point, scope of the victorie. 112 

Aigarsife sets Whearefore Algarsife placd Horbell afore, 

Horbello to lieud ^,^. , 

the defence. With all suche gallanted as pressd for honore, 

saienge him selfe, woold second on occasion, 
yet so, as no wheare hee neglect th' invasion. 116 

Howbeet, the soldiers lookd all sadlie out, 
for gainste theire kinge to deale, breed manie a doubt, 
sith a kinges praesence inscribes in the name 
a secret awe, w/n'ch guilt dothe feare, and shame. 120 

He cheers up iiis Algarsife yet them cheerd vp, howsoever, 

soldiers. i • i i i r> i 

and wisshd them now to fight for life or never : 

addinge, hee lovd his fathers dignitie, 

yet now must stand for common liber tie : 124 

ann instance denotinge in all that faint thus, 

that hee that is not with vs is against vs. 
^ i/e ireach hraviy But 16, all Canous bowucd at once for signe 

of bataille, w/^^ch mote trie it thine or mine. 128 

Horbeiio is first Mightic Horbcllo first came to the breach, 

Whose plumes seemd bove his crest the sphears toreache ; 

most nimblie bore him, hither, foorth, and thither, ^ 

1—1 and to them provd in his repulse doth lie 

the maine scope, staie, point of theire victorie : 

yet still, when him her snares or traine attemptd^s 
his noble horse from all distresse diremptes. 

gainst whome Algarsif placd Orbell abrest, 
with all those gallanted that vaine honor presst, 
him self^ resolvingd^ t' second on occasion, 
and no wheare to neglect the common invasion, 
howbeet, his soldiers lookd but sadlie out, 
for gainst truith and their king^ to fight, hvQQ6.es doubt ; 
sith kinges maiestick<9 presence, in the name, 
a secret awe writes to theirs guilt and shame. 

Yet them Algarsif cheerd vp, howsoever, 
and bid them now to fight for life or never, 
and though hee graunt^.s his ffathers dignitie, 
Yet now must and will stand for libertie : 
ann instance evident doth all attaint, 
that they that are not with are sure against. 

Now Orbell runnings to defend the breach 
(armd with those glories whereat all men reach), 
him bore with such substancial comportance, 
2—2 o■JJ^^ iqi Ash. 



at it. 



Pt. IX.] Cambuscafi f(jhts loith Horbello, 145 

ito and againe, as if all weare one feather : 132 

that manie wondred at his countenaunce, 

others admird his glorious comportance ; 

for whie^ his pike bore manie a tale man downe, Horbeiio casts 

men down with 

and downe once, others kepte them lo we a grown. 136 his pike, 

nor wantes hee of that kind of ostentation (f. 23 b) 

-which, vaine conceipt referrs to acclamation : 

fallings, most commonlie, in martial fraies 

the youngest from the gravest beares the praise. 140 

nathlesse, as manie carelesse as hee raught 

hee either mowldred, or them prisoners caught, and takes others 

prisoners. 

insomuch that the vulgar admiration * 

stoode stupified att Horbills deportation, 144 

seeminge to surphet of owne glorious geste, 

him cleaps of all the world es brave knightes the best. 

Yntill Cambuscan, iust at th' point of noone, ^iiorhmo Mied 

came in bright Steele as the sonn hotthe shoone, 148 
sharpe sett throughe hunger, at this dinner time, 
w/i!ich noblist services hath to define : 
soone eyenge Giant Horbills iollitie, 

rann at his tassant plumes vrbanitie. 152 cambuscan 

the pushe, thoughe downe hee putt, yet gann it rest 
on Horbills curate, iust amidd his breste,^ 

1—1 as all admird his dredfuU countenance, 

sith with his pike bore manie a tall man down, 
whome down, the rest ore trampled to the grown, 
self<5 raisings in theire place with ostentation, 
w/iich vaine conceipt (referrd to acclamation) 
of custom chaimcing^ in mavortial fraies, 
yong^ vpstartes from the graver beare the praise : 
but looke how manie frowning^? Orbell raught, 
hee either mowldred, Or them prisoners caught ; 
and, in the surfett^^ of his glorious guest, 
expects,? no lesse then of fames knightes the best ; 

till kinge Cambuscan, iust at point at noone, 
came in to read Orbelloes statelie doome, 
whear^ hee (sharpe sett of hungry at dinner time) 
(wMch mental services doth best define) 
ran mainelie in, and, with his lane*? in rest, 
strake Orbelles curate iust amid the brest, 
2—2 oni. in Ash. 



146 



Gnartolite attacks Cambuscan. 



[Pt. IX. 



Cambnscan 
throws Hovbello 
dfiwn. 
He is 
^rescued by 



who retires before 
Cambuscan. 



Gnnrfcolite fights 
with Cambuscan. 



3 Alfjar. Jightes 
with twoe at 



with such a sadd demurr, as theare hee stoode 
^like one that chawes digestion of the cudd. 156 

But the next pusshe bore Horbell off the grown, 
and his third thruste laid his brave vpside downe. 
Wheare [h'] had binn slaine, had not prince Algarsife, 
o'restridd him, till hee gatt from that misschiffe. 160 

Cambuscan, it perceavinge, rann at him, 
But Algarsife retierd hke bird from gynn, 
first savings Horbells life. Tho Gnartolite 
came to the reskewe, pusshinge pikes endight : 164 
so theare Cambuscans sells ev'n hand to hande, 
refusings succors, did gainst bothe those stande, 
with chaunge of passages and thrustes so fasts, 
as looke what fell short was made home in hast, 168 
and mnltiplied foorth, backs, too and agen, 
that near one stoode gainst twoe more dough tie men, 
till one trewe thrusts smote Gnartolites right eie, 
so as his left mote rightlie see to lie. 172 

This while Algarsifs with Camballo fought, 
and gainst Binato, whome hee feircelie songht : 
he fightinge to maintaine Fregilia towne, 
they bearings in to make his grown their grown.^ 176 



scare/? chawing6' the di<?estion of the cudd : 

but with the counterbuff' (turnd round) neevc down, 

had at aiinother stroke him hiid agrown, 

and theare had slaine him, had not Algarsif 

or'e strid him, and relivd from deathes reprife. 

whlah Cambuscan disdayning6^ rann at him, 
whoe thence recoil d as fast as bird from Jyn. 

With like malitious courage?, Gnartolite 
(w7«ch ever laie at watch, with force and spite) 
rann in ; Whear<? Cambuscan with knightly hand, 
against all three did resolutelie band, 
with strokes, exchaungd for thrustes : wJiioh fell so fast, 
as look what missd, or fell short, mad*? more hast 
to singl out Gnartolit*?, whoe low did lye, 
yet theare the point him thrust into the eye. 

This while Algarsifs gainst Camballo fought, 
and yong6^ Bin ate ; w/wch knightlie paire still sought 
to drive him from maintayninge Fregil town ; 
hee them to force to his, they to theirs grown ; 



Pt. IX.] Akajir overthroios Leifurco. 147 

ipusshinge, repusshinge, vibra tinge agen, 

as valient mortal and immortal men, 

lie gallantlie receavinge botlie tlieire sourse, 

and theie as resolutelie qnittinge force. 180 

]^ow as warrs chaunce beat Algarsife abacke, 
Gnartolites aide came in, with thwacke on tbwacke^ Gnartonte helps 

Algarsife. 

in trothe, so close they shock t, and fought so strong<^, 
as never weaker battaile stood so longe. 184 

Akafir, this while, on Leifurco ventred, ^JayuUngronn by 

and, mawlg'r his hott designes, gott ground, & entred : ' 
whome on the point encountringe, face to face, 
rejoicd to trie on equal termes the case,^ 188 

^bothes fatale vibrant pikes, pusshinge repusht, 
and soone requitted home-thrustes as home thruste, 
bothes greedie pointes oft ligh tinge on theire crestes, 
and ofte vppon theire bodies armed breste^. 192 

thrice Akatir o'rethrewe him in short space,^ Akafu- (Camhus- 

"^ Yet prowd Leifurco vsd no lesse menace, overthrows Lei- 

albee't was beaten backe, and neere dismaid, 



furco. 



if Gnartolite (full soone) had not brought aid, 196 ^ onartojy res- 



whome Akafir, well eienge, point wise smote,^ 



kpioeth Ley fur CO. ^ 



1—1 all striking^, thrusting^, vibrating^ agen, 
as mortal valient, and immortal men : 
hee bearding^? and opposing<5 all theirs? sowrce, 
they powrfuUie enforcing^ forc^ with force, 
vntill warrs force beate Algarsif^? abacki? ; 

but then came Gnartolite with thwack*? on thwack^', 
close shocking^ fought it in and home so strongs, 
as never weake ironies yet did band so longe. 

Whear<9 Aquaphir vppon Leifurco ventred, 
and like swift lightnings gott ground & yt entred ; 
not staying^ vntill comd vp face to face 
reioisd on equal termes to try the case : 

^— ^ these 5 lines om. in Ash. and the following imerted : — 
wheare quicklie madt? y® question evident, 
that ann oth fortifies no argument. 
4—4 fQj, drivings Leyfurcks from his violence, 
theare made yt known subsisted his essence ; 
dispite of w/tich, soone had him quite dismaid, 
had not false Gnartolite brought in his ayd. 
yNhioh Aquaphir perceavinge aymd his throte 
^—^ om. in Ash, 

L 2 



148 Camhiiscan tains ike middle Gate, [Pt. IX. 

^and gave him home the'lie, adowne his throte : 
fall loiige they fought, all parties valientlie, 
Yet neither side once seene to faint or flie. 200 

^iiorbeiiheatm OwYiQ Camhuscan gave Horbell the chace, 

back, i& y« hurt of 

y^ totvn xmmn.^ and mawlger reskewes wann the midle place -^ 
2 for trilling th' pinn in's brazen horse's eare, 
he raignd, spurrd, fought, & iust by noone it beare,^ 204 
W/i^'ch, as hee wann, niaintaind'^ by knightlie fight, 
his foes not daringe theare ^t' endure his might, ^ 

Cambnsean's men Whcarc longc hec iookd, when his whole camp wo ok I 

do not fight up to 

him. COm7?2, 

^to that same center, w/^/ch for them hee wonn. 208 
howbeet they came not vp, yet fought so well, 
as heraultes bookes mote boldlie cronikell. 

So ]ie makes an 

T honorable re- Whcarfore Cambnscan thence retraite gann make, 

traiteJ . ■ 

Havinge longe Iookd, for the poore soldiers sake. 212 
Yet lie has won Thus, having^ woun the w^alles and much good 

the walls and ^ 

much ground, lanCl, 

the drums told all men theare hee made his stand ; 
whieii he fortiftes. and strouglie fortified what so hee gatt, 

vntill att next assault he beare the statt. 216 

And surelie this retraite much love him wanii^ 

^—^ to give the lie for mariie vnknightlie quot,?, 
w/uch to maintaine, yt vouchd inherentlie, 
to cheere his mates, thence not to faint ne flic. 

Nathles, through all Cambuscan clombe thciiY-; statt, 
and mawger reskewes the townes midle gatt, 
2—2 Q^^^^ i^^ Ash. '■^~'^ these 2 lines oui. in Ash, 

4 hee kept ^"^ to endevvre his right ; 
6-^ to that brave center his example wun : 

his ensign sticking^? thear*?, t'induce each eie 

to see that in that sign is Victorie. 

Yet came they not all vp, though fought so well, 

as well gann herauld^.§ record^'^6' cronikell, 

how hee from thence, not once retrait woold mak^, 

but kept the townes hart for his soldiers sake ; 

wheare having*? wun?i the walles, & much more land, 

the drumes told all men, theare hee makes a stand : 

rein forcings whatsoever theare? hee gat<:^, 

at next assault to bear6^ Fregiliaes state. 

mean time this brave essay much love him wan, 
7—7 am. in Ash. 



Pt. IX.] Videreas Conspiracy against Algarsife, 149 



^moDgst tlie Fregiliens all, w/^^'ch gainst him cam : 

for vp they held theire handes, in signe of love, 

evn a farr ofF,i w7i?'ch did Cambuscan move 220 

rather to spare, then b' exequution kill, 

^knowinge bothe woold, ear longe, stand at his will. 

Algarsif, Horbell, Leifurcki^, Gnartolite, 
retierd eake to theire lopeholt, fortifite. 224 

While Phebus homewardes welked fast to weste, 
all sides repairinge them with needfull rest, 
stood cautelouslie yet vppon theire gardes, 
by bothe sides watchd, what either partie wardes. 228 

L6, heere the witch Yideriaes practises, 
whoe marckd Algarsii how at last impresse, 
refiisd once gainst his fathr to do meane, 
as contrarie to nature and extreame ; 
Shee thearefore now did plott gainst Algarsife, 
to bringe his liefe, state, honor, in mischife. 
Wheareto shee, callings liorbelJ, Gnartolite, 
Leyfurco too, thus halcioneth her spite : 

" Sirrs," quoth shee, " heers a dale shamefullie loste, 
w//.ich mote binn wonn with a litle more coste ;2 



The Fregilians 
hail Cambuscan. 



3 Fregiliens retire 
to aiinotfier holt^^ 



(f. 24) 



^ consplracie 
against AlgaV' 
sife^ 



232 



236 



Viderea sets Al- 
giivsife's Generals 
against him. 



1—1 mongst the Fregiliens all, though gainst him cam, 
who thearefore held vp handes in sign of love, 
far off to him ; 

2—2 both wldoh hee knewe woold hee at his own Will. 
On this, Algars, Orbell, Leyfurck<?, Gnartolitt^, 
retierd to their lopeskonces fortifyt^; ; 
while welking(9 Phoebus went down to the west, 
to warn all sydes to drawe to needful rest ; 
both parties keepings verie ieleous gardes, 
wheare as one squadron watcbeth thother wardes. 
Whloh darcknes fitting*? best Videreaes driftes, 
repeates how oft Algarvsif*;^ fell to shiftes, 
in balking<? gainst his ffather to demean, 
of nature, lothing<? to bee too extreame ; 
shee, thearefor<?, thencefoorth plottes against his liefe, 
to plunge his state and honor in misschiff : 
to \w7Uc,h end. calling*? Orbell, Gnartolite, 
and Leyfurcke, shee thus vttereth her dispite : 

"Sirrs" (quoth shee), ''this dale shamefullie is lost, 
w/uch mote binn wun;i to vs with litle cost ; 

2—3 om.. hi Ash. '^-^ oni. in Ash. 



150 Algarsifes 3 Generals plot against him. [Pt. IX. 

but beinge loste, cannott bee wonn againe, 
with tenn times the same charge, and as much paine. 
viderea declares ^Yee kiiowe I bidd yee marcke and eye it Well, 241 

that Algarsife's 

treason has lost how Algaisif^ uill gaiust Ms fi'ather dell,i 

them the battle. i , . , -t -t 

but startes aside, recoiles, or turnes awaie, 
W/wch proves hee correspondes with him, or maie. 244 
for had hee seconded Horbello well, 
Wee, not Cambuscan, had wunn the battell. 
whearfore, vnlesse yee meane to leese y*^^ town. 
He should be im- ^p^^^ Algarsife, th'iuconstant, hence or downe : 248 

prisond, and his 

Generals com- cliarge him with treason, and imprison him, 

that yee three maie commaund, if yee will winn." 

Th'applaude the motion, and imbibe th'ambition, 
With purpose him t' attach with expedition. 252 

So, in the night theie three, with a stronge gard, 

Tiie Generals salutcu Algarsife, who with them faerd, 

entice him to a fit 

place. nothmge suspectmge what the matter was ; 

and having^ traind him thence to fitter place, 256 

Horbello charges Horbell him chargd with treason, and soone arrestee' 

him with treason. 

him. 
But that word (treas'n) a litle not infeste^^ him \ 
Whearfore his fiste gave Horbell suche a knocke, 
as waivd him round as turnes the weathercock : 200 
callings him turnecote with the tide and time,^ 

l__i Yee knowe I bid yee marck<9. naie marck<3 yt well, 
how, face to face, n'oold gainst his ffather dell, 
2 the 
3—3 thrust Algarsif^ (the wavering*?) henc^ or down, 
whome charge with treasn and then imprison him, 
that yee three maie commaund all, and all win." 

th'imbibe the motive, and applaud th'ambition, 
in him attaching^ with all expedition. 

tho in the night they three, with stronger gard, 
salute Dan Algarsif^^ as with him faerd ; 
Whoe nought suspecting*? what the matter was, 
they traind him thence into a fitter place, 
and chardgd with treas'n, and thearewithall arrest6\s' him. 

but that word (full of art), once heard, infest6^6- him, 
for \Nli%Qh hee gave Orbello such a knock^^, 
as turnd him rownd, as waives the weather cock<3 ; 
and calld him tarn cote, with the tide and time, 



Pt. IX.] Algarsife is iinprisond hy Ids Generals, 151 
1 braidings ^Hhou.breath'ste but by tins arme of mine, Algarsife 

reproaches 

■w/i'/ch. whilome savd tbie liefe, Wben as the kmge Horbeiio. 

bad smote tbee downe, thow wantinge but killinge. 264 
ah. beer's the world, Wheare, save a cowardes liefe, 
and bee'l bee sure t' requitt it with mischiffe." 

So theare they tooke and bound him fast in chaines, ^Aigarsifim- 

prisoned^ 

and cast in dungeon deepe, wheare he remaines 268 by lus Generals, 

att the discretion of his enimies, 

for whose sweete sakes did gainste his father rise. 

theare now bathe leasure bothe to feele and pawse/ 

What wicked companie dothe ever cause, 272 

^ W/i/ch, to serve turnes, bothe sokes and bringes men in, 

Wheare none, at last, shall either save or winn.^ 

Algarsifes soldiers, beeringe this ear morne, ^mutimjiny 

rann all to amies, and in a furious stornie 276 

^demaundes theire General enlardgd, and swore^ TheFregiUans 

,, ^ ^ demand Algar- 

that, till they have hun out, they 1 light no more, sife's release. 

^or elles will yeeld the towne and everie man 

to the knowne virtue of kinge Cambuscan. 280 

Leifurco with his mates, over the gate, ^vsw-pation cma- 

Ujiecl by sugges- 

twixt iest and earnest thus to tli' soldiers prate, uon.^ 

but first woold by what boldnes knowe, and whie^ 

1—1 thus braidings : " Livst but by this arme of mine, 
w/Mch latelie savd thie lief^, when as the king^ 
had smote tiiee down, nought lacking^ but killing6' : 
but 6 this world ! wheare, save a coward^s lief6% 
and hee will suer requitt thee with misschifo ! " 

Whome takings, theare they bound fast in their chaines, 
and laid in prison strong*?, whear<? hee remaines, 
at the discretion of those enimies, 
for whose sakes hee did gainst his ffather rise : 
wheare now hath leasure, by good prooff, to pawse. 
2—2 oni. in Ash. 
2—^ to serve theire turnes : and theare too brings.? vs in, 
whear<9, on the reckoning!?, what wee gaine they win. 
*— * om. in Ash. ^—^ demaund their General, eWes rudelie swore, 

^—^ but they will yeild the town vp, and each man, 
to the known Virtuous right of Cambuscan. 

This heard, Leyfurco with his mates thus prate, 
thear<3 wheare wear^ safe enuff topp of the gate, 
" Sirrs ! whence comes this audaciousnes, and wide 
'^~'^ om. in Ash, 



152 Camballo claims Algarsife as Ms Prisoner. [Pt. IX. 



^theie dare breede daungers more by mutinied 284 

besides, assures them they shall aiinswer that, 
if common soldiers have t'orerule the statt ; 
eake vowinge that each mutinous in chiefe 287 

shoold feelinglie know th' prize of state-causd strife, 
nathles all th'^ soldiers cried ^' Gom.m brings him out " 
2 for, beings in armes, they feard no bugger ne rowt, 
nor woold rest satisfyed till him they have, 
Wh-ile some to breake the pris'n (yet could not) strave. 
Midd this hurraie^ a drumm from Camball coms, 293 
Whoe (standings at fitt distance) thrice he* droms, 
in signe of parley from the campe : "Wheareat 
^silence was made to speake t' him from the gatte. 296 
^^Horbill, Leifurco, Gnartolite," quod the Drum, 
*' Prince Camball dothe require yee three eft soon, 
praesume not to touche Algarsifes least heare, 
because hee's onlie Camballs prisonere. 300 

and that Camball envies all men alive, 
save him that shall take prisoner Algarsiue. 
againe hee vowes, if rnongst yee hee miscarrie. 
Your lives for him shall goe to Carons ferrie ;^ 304 



Algarsife's 
soldiers insist on 
his release. 



3 parley hy druvcx,^ 



6 Cambals de- 
mand.^ 



He claims Algar- 
sife as his 
prisoner. 



1—1 dare yee breed Dangers by jo%ir mutinie ? 
inspection havings none to vendicate 
into our misterie, and tax the state ; 
but wee protest each mutinous in chief*?, 
shall knowe the prize of stirrings statish strife." 
Nathlesse, the 

2—2 fQY, vp in armes, they fear^ nor thrett^6' ne rowt, 
nor woold bee satisfied till him they have, 
and swore would break*? the pris'n : yet booteles strave. 
Amidd w7uoh coile 

3—3 Q^2., in Ash. * thus 

6—5 ^a^g silence mad<3 to speak;? to him off the gate : 
" Orbeh, Gnartolit<?, Leyfurck*?," sayd the Drum, 
" the prince Camball requires yee three, eftsoon, 
not once to dare touch Algarsifos least haier^, 
hee beings onlie Camballs prisoner*? ; 
whoe now doth envie anie man alive, 
(him self^ except) that shall take Algarsive : 
hee thearefore vowes, yf mongst yee hee misscarrie, 
all your own lives shall goe to Carons fferrie ; 

6—6 ^,rfj^^ l^l jlgJl^ 



Pt. IX.] Videreas Flan to seize Cambicscan, 153 

^naie, bidden yee sett his brother free with speede, 
elles at three dales all your hart bloodes shall bleed." 
The blindfold drumm was brought this aunswer t' 
heere,! 
"Drum," quoth^ these statlinges, " backe this message The Generals 

^ ^ ^ declai'e that 

beare, 308 

t'^ Prince Camball, and tell him if hee com?7^, (f. 24 b.) 

_ . .- ^ ,. .,-,., T ^ a coming shift of 

^naie, if once^ stirr with pike, swoord, canon, gunre, rebeiisA 
^within foure hundred foote of this oure gate,^ if any rescue of 

f»-ir» Algarsife is at- 

or if Cambuscans self e ought attemptate, 312 tempted, he shaii 

^or these our owne mutinous soldiers, 

be it well known that everie of vs sweares 

his brother Algarsife sball then bee slaine,^ 

and this is all, as now, wee have to say en." 316 

^This aunswer, as it husht all vp for th' time, 
so't taught Yideria this new brond t' entine, vz.,* c* videlicet] 

" Sirrs," quoth shee, " time is now to strike at th' roote, ^v^witcjies trea- 
I meane at Cambuscans owne liefe; see toot ! 320 kings person.^ 

Yee knowe that hee full ofte dothe goe the rowne viderea exhorts 

singlie and meanlie garded, bowt the town,^ to capture^ 

Wheare to surprize him is not hard t' effect, ^^ treachTry^." ^ 

if wee one of his owne campe shall select, 324 

i^t'observe and bringe vs notice wheare hee fares, 
that our laid ambushe catch him in our snares. ^^ 

1—1 and bidd^5 yee free his brother with all speed, 

ell^.^, after three daies, your best blood^s shall bleed." 

WAich Drum (first blindfold) neeres this aunswer t' heere, 
2 said 3 to ^— * om. in Ash. ^~^ Or if hee 

6—6 within five hundred foote of our townes gate ; 
7—7 Or thease, our mutinous town soldiers : 

then bee yt known, and everie of us sweares, 
Algarsife shall immediatelie bee slaine, 
8—8 WAich aunswer, as yt husht all for the time, 
so taught Viderea this new brond to entine. 
" Sirrs," quoth shee, "now time is to strike at th' root 
of king^ Cambuscans own lief^ ; then see toot ! 
for well yee knowe hee often goes the rown, 
full meane and singlie garded bowt the town ; 
^— ^ 07?b. in Ash. ^^ to effect 
11-11 to brings intelligence when, wheare, hee fares, 
that so our ambush maie him catch in snares^ : 



154 Qiddavis is bribed to betray Cambuscan, [Pt. IX. 
Quidavis can be ^His piii'vier Quidauis wilbee tlie man, 

bribed. 

wAech, for reward, will betraio Cambuscaii. 328 

Elle.9, if wee suffer him to goe tlius on 
in winnings all our peoples liartes vs from, 
Cambuscan must hee'le surelie force the towne : sithe men for love 

not be left to win ^ ~i^ -y - ■^ l^ - - 1 r.<^^ 

tiie Froj?iiians cLoo loiiowe him^ and this IS good to prove, 332 

the love of virtue drawes all more or lesse, 
and love tis dothe the greatest services. 
but wee must purchace otherwise (if wittie), 
and strive to thrive in en vie, not in pittie. 336 

lett this bee quicklie practizd." Th'all agree, 

Quidavis takes his and false Quidauis takes his profered fee, 

traitor's fee. _ 

w 1th promise to direct them wheare hee is, 
so that to take him th'ambusshe shall not misse. 3-10 
viderea has hit lu trotlie, tliis false Vidercaes cursed trickes 

the nail on the , . i -i i n • i t 

head. the needles eie and nailes head rightlie strikes : 

for never did old Troies flames more incense 
her illions Captaines with concupiscence, 344 

then did Cambuscan by the contrarie 
of love, truithe, iustice, temperance, them frye^ 



1—1 whose purvier Quidavis wilbee the man, 
will for reward betray Lord Cambuscan. 
'EWes yf yee still thus suffer him on to goe, 
and win our peoples hartes to him, vs fro, 
hee will surprize the town ; sith men for love, 
him popularlie seek*? : whioh thus I prove 
that love of virtewe drawes all more and lesse, 
and love it is doth greatest services. 
Let thearefore this bee practizd," they agree, 

and Quidavis accepted his asked fee, 
them promising^ to brings wheare now hee is, 
wheareas to take him th^ambush shall not misse. 

Thus did Videreaes tricke flunge virsute witt, 
the needles eie and nailes head rightlie hitt, 
in theas for Troies flame near did more incense 
with illions flagrance of concupiscence, 
and turbulence combust of appetites, 
then thease t' vntruith, vn iustice eake, sh' incites : 
that by intestine fumes mote quite consume 
own noblest actions, so to leese theire town. 

gainst which Gambuscans noblest contraries 
of temperance, love, truith, iustice, forward hies, 



Camballo has 
2 an ominous 
dream.^ 



Pt. IX.] Camballo s Dream of Camhusoans Death, 155 

^to bringe all backe to sucb a virtuous luer 

as never was performd by imposture. 348 

and thearfore it behovd this Witch and then, 

to quenche the lampe w/^^'ch lighted all his men. 

It channcd this night, toward ye breaks of daie, 
as Princ Camball after some labors laie 352 

in tranqnill extacie, ann vncothe dreame 
praesente^ within his spirited this dismal schene, vz., 

Of his andVs ffathers tumblinge on a greene 
of daintie flowres, as in Elisium seene. 356 

Wheare they, vprisinge, found them in a porch, 
w7^^ch lodd them till a bewteous neibringe church,^ 
at whose ope dore a Ghoste in white them mett, a Ghost is at a 

Church-door. 

^oiirnige out bothe his armes, bothe to regrett. 360 

But Camball, leesinge twoe teethe, backe did raigne :^ 

Cambnscan entringe said woold com??i againe. Cambuscan goes 

. , ,^ . . , v^ .(. . , . "^5 and vanishes. 

^at thmstant Algarsiie came passmge bye,* 

but vanishd out of sight immediatelie. 364 

^ This gastf u 11 dreame dre w breath, & soone a wooke him, cambaiio awake? 
to thincke it did frendes losse, or death betoken. 
" for," quoth hee, "suche impressions near bin sent vs 
but to forewarne what's with vs, what's against vs."^ 

1—^ to beate all back6' to such a virtuous lewr(9 
as near^ was donn by state art<?s imposture : 
whearefore behovd this wicked witch and them, 
to quench that lampe inlighted all his men. 

So now yt chauncd neere dawning<3 of the daie, 
as Camball, aftr his first sleepe quiet laie, 
in tranquil extacie, had this strange dreame, 
wZtich in his spirit(9s darraignd this dismal scene, vz. 

that hee, his father eake, walkd on a greene, 
w7^ich all the flowres bore in Elisium beene, 
from whence arising^ fownd them in a porch, 
that opened to a bewteous-ioyninge church ; 
2—2 Qj^^ i^^ Ash. 

3--3 in both armes Offringf^ both them theare to greet : 
Camballo, twoe teeth leesinge, back^ did straine, 
4—* at th'instant came Algarsif^ gliding!? by, 

5—^ w/iich gastf ull dreame so troubled as awook^ him, 
to iudg<? yf mote frend^5 losse or death betoken ; 
for visions in the temperate near^ are sent vs. 
but to warne what is with vs, what against vs. 



To save Algnrsife, 
Caniballo makes a 
Signal of 



1. White, 

2. Red, 



156 Canaces Bream of Algarsifes Banger, [Pt. IX. 

1 Whence liee, of theire three states, thought di- 
versitie, 369 

Algarsifes case stood next vnder his eye, 
' Whome to preserve and eake maintaine his drumm, 
this signale did his three daies doome forerunn, 372 
to weete : All his pavilion the first daie 
shoold bee in gratious-mercies-white araie. 
The seconde daie in redd it shoold bee dight, 
to thretten iustice blood demaundes of right. 376 

s. Black. The third daie all in blacke it shoold bee rayd, 

to sweare that all and some shoold bee distraid. 
'W^^ch embleams hee bid vaunce, for foes to reede 
of mercie, iustice, death, how hee decreed, 380 

accordinge as his foes shoold yeeld or not, 
theire doomes weare written in this gordien knott.^ 

^E'ow Canac, thoughe at home & farr from hence, 
so sleepie wox that shee note bannishe sense, 384 

but that of propertie it challengd sleepe 
to meete her spirites all in a dungeon deepe : 

Wheare seemd a longe speckd snake, his postern drewe 
and wrigled, her to stinge with forker blewe; 388 

for dread of whome shee calld Algarsifes aid,^ 
on whome the snake leapt, and him round araid, 
^ so that hee stirrd not : but (stunge) gann to swell, 
and dies.^ sithe none wiste the right charminge spell, 
^till happelie her ffather slewe the snake, 393 

and by his virtuous wordes did th' venom slake ; 
(f. 25) for ioie wheareof Canac gann laugh and singe, ^ 

1—1 tliese 14 lines omitted in Ash. 
2—2 So Canace in Uke extacie asleepe, 

beheld her selfe in a drad dungeon diepe, 
whear<9 a long*? speckled snake his postern drewe, 
and crawld vp her to sting<?, with forker blewe ; 
for drad wheareof shee calld Algarsifs aid, 
3—^ 07)1. in Ash. 
4—* so as n'ote stirr, but stung^?, did theareof swell to death ; 
^—'^ till to her seemd her ffather slewe the snake, 
and by some Virtuous wordes the venom slake ; 
tor ioie wheareof Canac did laugh and sing6', 



Canace, at home, 
lias 



3 a fearfull 
dreame.^ 



She sees Algarsife 
nearly kild by a 
snake. 



Cambuscan 
rescues him. 



men. 



At first they 
shrink back, 



Pt. IX.] Camhmcan is surprised hy Qiiidavis, 157 

that all the chamber heard her carroliiige, 396 

^till her owne voice her wooke : sighinge, quoth shee, 

" Some dreames bin^ trewe, though some but fancies 
bee. 
god sheild my ffather and my brothers twaine, Canace prays for 

and sende good newes, which I woold heere full faine.'* Brothers' safety. 

2Tho, tho2 it fell (alas that so it fell !) 401 

^as this good kinge tried if his gardes watchd well, AsCambuscan 

Quidauis, with his ambushe in the night, 
findes tretcherouslie out this valient knight. 404 *r ^^. tretchei^- 

''Whoe goes theare?" quoth the kinge, ** whome 

seeke yee "l " than he challenges 

theie aunswerd, that they sought kinge Cambusean.^ 

" I am the man," quoth hee : At th'instant, 16, 
^his kinglie presence awes them backe to goe. 408 

for trewe kinges this inscribe of soveraigntie, 
that vassalage backe startes at maiestie. 

yea, roial virtue such a presence beares for Kings strike 

as once lies verie eie strikes ffoes with feares. 412 tear. "^^^ ' 

so gann stowt Pirrus lookes agast his foes, 
that none durst (thoughe death wounded) give him bloes. 
so sparckled Marius eies in the darcke iaile, 
as none his murdrers durst him once assaile. 416 

But then Cambuscan, seeinge theie weare ffoes, ^ 

1—1 her own noise her awaking/?, then said shee, 
" som dreames are 

^~^ what time 
3—2 as king<9 Cambuscan tried yf gard<?s watchd Avell, 
false Quidavis, with ambush in the night, 
most tretcherously betrayed this faithfull kniglit ; 

Whoe first said, " Qui vola ? whome seeke yee heer^ ? " 
they said, '*wee seeke Cambuscan everie whear^." 
^— ^ oni. in Ash. 
^— ^ his roial presence awd them back<3 to goe, 

for trewe kinges have inscribed of soveraigntie, 
an awe that back^ retortes all tretcherie : 
so Pirrus lookes in Argos gastes his ffoes, 
wheare, though death wounded, none durst give him bloes ; 
■^so sparckled Marius eies in darkest Jaile, 
as not his murdrers once durst him assaile. 

Cambuscan weeting<? well theas weare his ffoes, 



>8 Cainhnscan is stabd and taken Prisoner. [Ft. IX. 



Cambuscaii 
attacks tlie 
Traitors, 



but is attaekt in 
rear, stabd and 
captured. 



Amidis 

^ Ms 'page pas- 

sionate.^ 

goes with 

Cambuscan. 



^him ia owne ensigne clotlid and onward goes, 

and with his flaggstaif, vsd instead of pike, 

hee made it good that hee did rightlie strike. 420 

and rightlie so hestirrd, till false they fell, 

t' infect with traitorous shame theire cronikell. 

Ilorbell hee beat, and Gnartolite hee spedd, 

and baid the rest, who stood of him adredd ; 424 

vntill Leyfurco caught him fast behinde. 

While all the troope him stabbd and hard did bind. 

One of his gard fought for him valientlie, 

but all the rest gave waie to destanie. 428 

Whence leadinge him, th'abusd with all the spight 
of those vile epithites w/w'ch states endight, 
to iustifie owne wronges, and blase his sJaunder, 
Whose popular innocence was all their daunger. 432 
naie, th' vulgar blind, whoe still their good missvse, 
had rather then his liefe confusion chouse, 
none goinge in with him but Amidis, 
his gentile page, Whose drerie eies sawe this, 436 

and how detested cowarde^ crueltie, 
wheare it vsurpes, dares trample maiestie.^ 



1—1 jjij3^ pnttes amid his Ensign (worn for cloths), 
and with his flaggstaff, for a pike in tight, 
it made good gainst them all that hee is right ; 
and so long^ rightlie fought till false they fell, 
to infect with shame theire traiterous cronikell : 
Off beatings Orbell, Gnartolite, hee sped, 
and felld the rest so as of him weare dread, 
till Leyfurcke, baser eake (that graceles groome), 
him caught & murdred ; yet hee livd till noone. 
though of his gward one fought right valientlie, 
the rest gave waie to his hard destanie. 

which donn, they raild him with that hate and spite, 
that factious artes to peoples mowthes indite, 
to iustifie theire wronges and blase his slaunder, 
whose popularitie became theire danger. 

none with him bidinge but page Amidis 
(his lovelie boy), whose lidde,s- did witnesse this, 
that cowardice is of that crueltie, 
as wheare prevailes, dares trample maiestie. 
so falshode, wheare yt getteth soveraigntie, 
doth never lesse then bafHe Veretie, 
2—2 f,fj^^ i)-^ Ash. 



Pt. IX.] Camhusccuis dying Message. 159 

so mightie Cesar in owne colors diei^, 

^topp of owne glories, wA^'cli his foes envied. 440 

"Amidis," quoth Cambuscan, " goe, begonn,i ^ a aie^ig mes- 

sage?' 
for heers no place for thee now I have donn ; 

and tell my Queene, that to take Algarsife, cambuscan says 

^I, for her love and honor leese my life/"^ 444 for ins Queen. 

^and give to Canacie, my daughter deere, He sends canace 

his bleeding 

these bleedmge colors, w/wch are now my beere,* coiom-s, 

my love and wronges to her to signifie 

^then when her eie renewes my memorie." 448 

more said hee not to wofull ximidis,^ 

but gave his hand : " Adiewe, boie, god thee blisse." 

^tho fetchinge his last sighe, at noone hee dyed, and then dies. 

in th' midle of his flowringe age distryed. 452 

thus hee, a statishe martir, caught the glorie 

of murdred wrongfullie, as saithe the storie. 

W/wch when the wofull Amidis beheld, 
hee sighd, and sobbd, and gladlie would binn killd. His page Amidis 
yet viewes his lord when he had no word lefte, 457 
after his onlie comfort was bereft : 
Looke ho we ann ewe yeanes one poor weaklinge s^m.iie:t 

lam??i 459 

in winter guistes, when snowe on ground doth stamz,^ 

1—1 topp of his glories, by his ffoes envied. 

" Hence, Amidis ! " Cambuscan said, "begon ! 
2—2 om. in Ash. ^—^ I to her iust ire sacrifice my lief<? : 

4—* and to Canace (mine onlie daughter deere), 

thease bleedings colors give ; now mad6' my beer^?, 
6—5 when her kind eie renewes my memorie." 

more could not sale to doleful! Amidis, 
6—6 tho fetching6" a deepe sigh, sanck^ down and died, 
amid his flowringe? 'dge, by fraud distried. 
whear^ hee (a statizd martir) caught the glorie 
of murdred wrongfullie, as sweares the storie. 

all whioh. when weeping^' Amidis beheld, 
hee also gladlie lookd but to bee killd, 
behold ing6; still his Lord, though Mefe thence weft, 
as thear^^ his stale and comfortes weare bereft ; 
like as ann Eawe droopes, that a lambe doth yeane 
in winter gustes when snoes make flockes goe leane, 
^ om. in Ash. 



160 Amidis buries Cambmcan s body, [Pt. IX. 

^shuddreth for cold, Yea dies for lacke of meate, 
bleatingeowne lacke,9,but morefor th'lambe dothebleate/ 
2 of tender love borne to the younge her owne, 
then when owne liefe takes last leave to be gone.^ 464- 
AsCambuscan ^so, SO Cambuscan caerd. for Amidis, 

had cared for a • t /-n i 

Amidis, so Amidis SO Amidis wepte Cambuscan to misse. 

dead benefactor. SO poors on his thrice-thrice-doere Lord him fedd. 

but ah ! how getter hee meate, his master dead % ^^"^ 
cold snow, cold love, cold kindnes, all yce cold, 
yet faine his pensive liddes woold him behold, 
^'hei me,'' quoth hee, ^^whie d' I survive him dead^ 
or whoe iste speakes of love now truith is fleddl 472 
I will goe seeke my death, w/^Mi flies from mee, 
and tell the world what iniuries theare bee." 

The vile Fregiliens, pittiinge the sweete boy, 
wailinge most rufullie his frende<9 distroie, 476 

for shame lettes him alone to doe as woold. 
So after his dead lord was pale and cold, 
(f. 25 b) takes off his ensigne, which his emblem bore, 

cambuscan's and foldes it vp as relique of honore : 480 

and furies him. ' then tooke in armes his allmost naked lord, 

and gave him the best grave hee could afFoord.^ 

1—1 when shuddringe coldes them sterve and lack^ of mea^te, 

doth 3'et, ear Deatb, her orphan Lambes case bleat6^ 
2—2 these 2 lines om. in Ash. 
3—3 so did Cambuscan care for Amidis, 

so Amidis for Lord Cambuscans misse, 

so poerd on his deere master earst him fedd ; 

but now, whoe gives him meat (his master dead) ? 

cold sno, cold love, cold frindship, stiff with cold : 

Yet on him fixt his eies, still to behold, 

oft sayinge, "whie doe I survive thee dead? 

or whoe once speakes of love 1 truith, iustice, fledd. 

I thearefore Death v^^ill seeke, w7mh flies from mee, 

and tell the world what hypochrites states bee." 
The vile Fregiliens, pittieng6^ the poore boie, 

while rufullie murnd for his Lord^6' distroie, 

him lett alone, to doe all that hee would ; 

Wheare after his dead Lord was pale and cold, 

took<? off his Ensign, w/iich his embleam bore, 

and yt vp io\Aes (truithes relique of honour*?) : 

then tooke in armes his reverend naked Lord, 

to whome deignd the best grave hee could afoord, 



rt. IX, X.] Amidiss Epitaph on Cambuscan, 161 

^Wheare, with some fewe, performd the funeral Amidis bm-ies 

Cambuscan, 

With simple solemne obsequies roial. 484 

and this sadd epitaphe they saie hee wrote, 

teeres weare his yncke, his brokenn voice the note,^ 

his soule the muse, his hart the table was, 

his finger the dull^ penn, his vowe the place : 488 

"Heere lies the trewe and iuste in word and deede, epitaputm.^ 
* Whose liefo, love,^ hart, for foes did live, die, bleede : and writes an 

Epitaph on him. 

none was so valient, all hee left^ behind 
^is counterfeate, and scarce the sume of kind," 492 

" Adiewe, sweete Lord," him kissinge ofte and aye ; • 
thence to Queene Ethel and Canac gan straie,^ 
^but all the waie weepes, meltes, and wastes to mone, 
suppinge owne sorrowes, comforted of none ; 496 

and this repeates : ''If none this wronge will wreake, 
the dead will rise, and stones them selves will speake." '^ 

Canto Decimo, partx. 

Great murninge for Cambuscans losse of lief e : Pregiiey is taicen, 

kinge Thotobun hmi wondrouslie dissleepes ; Akafir. 

^winns th' town with's horse ; frees yet wound 6J5 
Algarsife ; 
gives Discipline : the towne^ Akafir keepes. 

^Phoebus, neere six howres with his brodest eye, 
sawe, full of griefe, this lovelesse tragedie,^ 
stuffd with vn trewe and vniuste homicide ; 

1—1 and with a fewe performd the funeral 
of simple-solemne-exequies roial. 
then this sad epitaph with greef<? hee wrote, 
teares was his ynck^, his broken voice the note, 
■2 trewe ^ o?}i. in Ash. ^~* whose Jove. liefe, ^ leaves 
^—^ are counterfeat<?, though vaunting*? it in kind."*, 
'' sweet Lord, adiewe ! " him kissing*^ oft and aye, 
thence to Queene Etheel and Canace to stray*?. 
^—"^ these 4 Imes o?n. in Ash. 
8-8 i\^Q town hee winnes, frees, yet wound^s Algarsif*?, 

gives discipline : &;c. the town 
^—^ Neer^ six howres Phoebus, with wide open eie, 
beheld with griefe this bloodie tragedie, 
LANE. M 



The Sun mourns 
for Cambuscan's 
deatli. 



162 Camballds distress at his Father s Death, [Pt. X. 

^but to make sliewe^ liow hee abhorrd tlie deede, 4 

^and that th.' whole world mote knowe this tyrannie, 

he himselfe murner turnd for companie, 

Doinge as near before hee did, ne since 

(the rather all folkes malice to convince) 8 

done, for three liowres a moste darke sable hoode, 

When Cinthiaes fullest visage furthest stoode : 

t' astrologize, then truithe, love, iustice died, 

nature ne supranature ever lyed. 12 

Twice now had Titan wasshd his blubbled eye^ 
in Thetis bason, farr from companie, 
^when these newes came to prince Camballoes eare, 
hee start vp, rent his clothes and tore his heaire, 16 
and surelie tho had falln with fitter extreanie,^ 
had not his ffather taught him to demeane ; 
^but gatheringe him into ann agonie, 
movd, as immovd, thus tempred his outcrie : 20 

" What, is Algarsife mine, a prisoner taen? 
Cambuscan eake, my roial father, slane?^ 
th' one by his frendes, and thother by his people, 
and bothe in theire owne campes, ^oh, ist possible? 24 
unknown to him. and all SO closelic donn, and I so neere 1 ^ 



^ Camballoes 
agonie * 

at hearing of liis 
Father's deatJi, 



^—1 to make it seene 
2—2 and that the world mote reade this tyrannie, 
hee his own selfe did murne for companie, 
yea did, as never did before ne since, 
(apparantlie theire malice to convince) 
three howres putt on his most darck6^ sable hood, 
when Cynthiaes fullest face disveiled stood ; 
t' astrologize that then truith, iustice, dyed : 
for nature, supranature, never lyed. 

So twice had Titan Washd his blubbred eye, 
3 ear when thease newes (hard plucking*? Camballes eare) 
made start vp, rend his clothes, and teare his haiere : 
whoe, surelie, in had falln to fitt<?s extreame, 

^—5 but vp him gatheriug6^ from his agonie, 

movd, as vnmovd, bespake thus temperatelie : 

" What I is my brother Algars prisoner taen ? 
and lunge Cambuscan, my deere ffather, slaen ? 
-6 is this possible ? and all donn closely, and my selfe so neere ? 



Pt X.] Camhallds Lament over CamJmscans death, 163 



Camballo re- 
proaches liimself, 
his Generals and 
Soldiers, witli not 
was being present to 
stop Cambuscan's 
death. 



28 



He was slain by- 
treason. 



6 Cam ball ! o Binate ! 6 Akafire ! 

and 6 dull soldiers (heires of endles shame !) 

Wheare, wheare weare yee, when Cambnscan^ 

slane 1 

how shall wee looke men, naie boies, in the face 1 

2 wheare such a fact infecte all with disgrace, 

as no excuse, ne dispute cann bee heard ,2 

for some faulted qualities bin^ audience barrd." 32 

^and tho repeates,^ that his late vncothe dreanie 

was th' oracle of this tragedious schene. 

^" What shall I saie,^ wheare doinge nought availesi 

what shall I^ doe, wheare speakinge also failes ? 36 

'^Yet hathe it'' oft binn scene, the valiantst kinges, 

knightes, barons, dukes, have ^trapd bin in such stringe6\ 

treason^ hathe brought th' invincible to ende. 

6^ yet, mee seemes, Cambuscan shoold not wend ; 40 

no, no, mee seemes ^^ Cambuscan shoold not passe, 

thoughe all the world durst practise his disgrace ; 

sithe wheare vntruith dares truith discountenance, 

it gaines but^^ by vsurpinge truithes semblaunce. 44 

^'^nor was it ever so extinguishd yet, 

but that lies least left sparcke new liefe could gett ; 

ne shall his blood goe vnrevenged thus, 

but I will them distroie, who annoyd vs." ^^ 48 

When Camballs soldiers heard Cambu scans death, 

Impassion rann them and theires quite out of breath, 

Whoe weepinge, ilockd and swarmd to Camballs tent ,^4 

1—^ kinge Cambusk^ 
2—2 whear such a fact infect^s with such disgrace, 
as no excuse cann ne dispute bee heard ; 
'^ are ^-^ tho calld to mind ^—^ " ah ! what shall saie ^ wee 
^—7 yt havings ^—^ binn caught in such gyns ; for treasn 

9 h^ 10 thinckes " not but 
12—12 w^ich truith was never so extinguishd yett, 

but that her leastleft sparck^ new lief<? woold gett. 
his blood theai'efor<? shall not vnvenged goe, 
but I will them distroie, distroied him so." 

13—13 Q^Yf^ l,}i jlgJi^ 

14—14 Dismayd, rann passionatelie out of breath, 

with moanes and teeres, vp to Camballoes tent, 

M 2 



He shall be re- 
venged. 



!•" ?/« soldiers 
ijassion.^^ 



164 Camh alios Soldiers reproach themselves, [Pt. X. 



Camballo's sol- 
tiiers reproach 
themselves 



(f.26) 



for not meeting 
him in Fregiley, 



and not following 
him, so as to have 
saved his life. 



They cry Shame 
on themselves. 



1—1 



^swiftlie to tell all theire imjDatient bent : 52 

'^ 6 prince Camball " (quoth they), " what have wee 
donn % 
W are all vndon, evn evrie mothers sonn 1 
What 1 have wee savd our selves, and lost our kinge % 
ah, heer's a feild soone loste without fightinge ! 56 

out on vs ! out ! sithe wee have broke our word ! 
Wear't not as good to have betraid oure lord, 
as to vnsecond him, as twice wee did,^ 
when wee shoold him have mett the towne amidd*? 60' 
2 W/u'ch had wee donn, the towne and daie weare oures,^ 
and this dissaster near have staind our powres. 
^Againe, Avee promisd wheare hee went before^ 
wee would him folio we : could a kinge say^ more 64 
^Then hee his promise kepte? so did not wee, 
sithe gonn is hee before, yet heere wee bee. 
Wee, who shoold fought to death for him. Yet live, 
while hee his lif^ loste for false Algarsine ; 68 

whearefore of vs, 6 what cann worse bee sedd, 
then that hee's dead, and none of vs made dead*? 
fye oxi vs ! fye ! whoe are suche promise breakers, 
as all the world maie brand meere deedlesse speakers ! 
ah, who noold love him whose life aimd this end,^ 73 



as multitudes distract, impacient ; 
thus blundering^, '* Prince Cambal], what have wee donn ? 
wee have vndon vs everie mothers sonn, 
sith savings? of ourselves, hath lost oui* kingd?, 
and masterie of the feild, without fightings? : 
Out on vs all ! that brake our plighted Word, 
w7//^ch brokn, is't not as good to tray our Lord 1 
sith not him seconding^, as twice hee did, 
2—2 wMch had wee donn, what lost is had binn oures, 
^— ^ of promising*?, that Wheare hee went before ■* doe 
^-^ then keepe his knightlie word ? so did not wee : 

thus is hee gonn before, yet heere wee bee ; ' 

wee, whoe should fought for him to death, yet live ; 
liee his liefi? leesing*? for false Algarsive. 
whearefore? of vs what wurser cann bee sedd, 
then that hee's dead, and none of all vs dead? 
ffye on vs all ! whoe are such promise breakers, 
as all the world maie brand for deedles speakers : 
Wiieareas his noblist liefe by deed intendt^s, 



Pt. X.] Canibusca7is Death is to be revenged, 165 

1 before his death to doe good to his frend? " 

Akafir at this speeche wepte bitteiiie, ^y^ Admiraiu 

lamentation?' 

because the worme of shame dothe never die, 76 

sobbinge : " men maie vs tax, state awe vs brake, 

and bugg-beard vs our master to forsake. 

Whearefore, good sirs, thoughe wee note make amendes, cambuscau's 

. Army will revenge 

Yet maie wee on our slacke selves take revenge, 80 ms death. 

not by preventing^ his praecedencie, 

sith hee's gonn all before, saunce remedie ; 

yet wee maie folio we with like confidence, 

and with our loves his trewe love recompence." 84 

On that they ioind all handes, and lo wd gann crie ^ » camhau temper- 
on prince Camball to fight immediatelie. 

4" Not so " (quoth Camball), '' for to fight by night 
and flie by dale, steales victorie : ISTe like 't. 88 

first, lett the sonn rise, that my fathers storie cambaiio bids 

them wait till 

maie better convert with our allegorie. next day. 

for knowe my colors redd are not taen downe, 

ne mortal blacke succeedes yet in lies rown ; 92 

but morrowe morne this battaile so shall steare,^ 

\ 

1—1 before his death to benefit his fren(ks." 
At this speech Aquaphir wept bitterlie, 
for that gmMes wurme and shame doe never die ; 
"so that men maie vs tax, how fear^^ of state 
hath buggbeard vs, our Lord to abnegate : 
whearefor^?, too late now, cannot make amend<?5, 
though venging(3 him, yet scarce vs proves his frend^^s. 
Yet though hee vs prevent^s precedentlie, 
by chalking^ out our waie to honors hie, 
wee by him following^ with like confidence, 
shew love for love, though no full recompence." 
on w/iich design they ioind hand<9s and out crie, 
2—^ am. in Ash. ^~^ om. in Ash. 

4—4 " ]s[ot so," said Camball, " for such fight by night, 
in hott blood, and by dale in cold blood, flight, 
is not that resolution knight^.? prof esse ; 
but wee thus temperatelie must make progresse, 
that Phebus selfe maie read my ffathers storie, 
how yt converteth with our allegorie : 
for yet m}'' colors white, red, n' ar<9 taen down, 
ne mortal black, as yet, succeed (95 theirs rown, 
but shall to morowe trie by battailes thwack<?, 



166 Some Fregilians are still for Algarsife. [Pt. X. 



^popular out- 
rageP' 



The Fregilians 
fall out. 



Algarsife's party 



abuse the 3 usurp- 
ing Generals, 



^as our and tlieire designes all blacke shall weare." 

So all men them prepaid gainst morrowe dale. 
N'ow, of th' fregiliens this remaines to saie^ 96 

that through opinions (divers of distraction) ^ 
they fell to sydes, from sides to common faction, 
^Whence they whoe lovd Algarsif gann disdaine 
that his Inferiors shoold him thus enchaine. 100 

and looke how th' vulgar bablen, so they prate 
that " three vsurpers, whoe them cleapd the state, 
Horbello, Gnartolite, Leifurcoes grace, 
whoe by vsurpinge prince Algarsife^ place, 104 

naie, kinge Gambuscans (wheare them selves th' in- 

skrewe), 
t' extort all services of all as dewe : 
thoughe beinge but Yideriaes water spanieki.*, 
meere settinge, sharkinge, cheating^, niountbancke 
camille6\^ 108 

wall have vs eate suche spoone meate as they give, 
or somm our portions* vp with Algarsive." 

''^Thother towne soldiers,^ whoe gainst these vp stand, 
and for Horbello, Gnartolite,^ Leifurcke bande, 112 
swore all theire processe wise is, trewe, iuste, well, 

1—1 what hath to conclude all theire trickes in blacke." 

thus warnd, they armd them for too morrowe dale. 
Meane time of the Fregiliens restes to saye, 

that through opinions yvhioh ale breed distraction, 
2—2 Q,fj^^ irfi Ash. 
3—3 w/tich emulous, of stronge imagination, 

preferrd own idols to prevarication. 

Whence came, that whoe Algarsif lovd, disdaind 

that his inferiors thus should keepe him chaind. 
Some others of the Vulgar boldlie prate 

that " three Vsurpers whoe them vaunt the state, 

and beare them as vncertaine of theire nation, 

as gracelesse certainelie in theire creation, 

Orbello, Gnartolite, Leyfurco greate, 

b' vsurpinge impiously Algarsifes seate, 

(naie, rather, kinge Gambuscans) them inskrewe 

t' extort from all of vs, cures, as theire dewe : 

though they are but Videreaes waterspaniele^', 

(meere setters, cheaters, sharkers, mountbancke camelled) 
^ reckoninges ^-^ Some other Vulgar, ^~^ ovi.mAsh. ^ Gnariol 



mere water- 
spaniels of 
Viderea. 



6 vulgiis seco7iding 
factionP 



Pt. X.] Other Fregilians are for the Traitor -Generals, 167 

^ because Algarsife did gainst's sier rebell : ^ Ti-.e partisans of 

the 8 treacherous 

and thearfore, liini a prisoner tlius- to hold Generals justify 

dothe free theire^ state of daungers manifold, 116 ofAigarsife, be- 

T . 1 n , i c • J 1 cause he rebeld 

w/^^cn are vniitt lor everie one to kno. against his Father. 

^'^ nor ist our partes^ t'enquire how secretes goe.^ 

^E'ow if these three our statt gann monarchize,^ 

obedience sinneth not it t'"^ idolize : 120 

and^ what care wee, while wee participate 

^the profittes w/^^ch are cast on vs by state % 

they bee too wise, trewe, iuste, to err or lie 

in what concernes bothe them and vs so nye. 124 

Whence wee'l still stand with them, vnlesse theie fall ; 

then hee that longest lives, lett him take all." 

IN'ow guiltie Horbell, Leifurcke, Gnartolite, ^^ iwigiinij shifts 

castinge on chaunge, the lipp versutlie bite, 128 

Yet meaninge t' hold the raignes as longe as male. But tiie Generals 

vnlesse that nil be held w7^^ch will awaye, 
prepard, wantes not to purge them by excuse,^ 
that^i from them selves mote putt off fowle^'^ abuse. 132 
i^for theie (kind hartes) Algarsiue did surprize did not imprison 

^ , . ,. . ,.,. TO him for this. 

not, but because hee gainst liis sier did rise ;^^ 

^—^ as deales gainst Algarsife, who dofch rebell ; 
2 fast 3 the '^— * ne louges yt vs 

^— ^ Ash. liere inserts : — 

the peoples witt, thincking^ that htl it knoes 
is more then all, yf they but kenn their*? nose. 
6—6 " then yf thease three our state cann monarchize, 7 to ^ then 
9—9 the benefitt^.s cast on vs by the state, 

they are too wise, trewe, iust, to wrong*? or lye 
in states, w7fcich them concernes, and vs like nye. 
wee'l thearefore with them stand, vnlesse they fall ; 
so lett the longest liver heer^ take all ! " 
thus setters dare blind bobb the peoples pates, 
with what them willingly infatuates. 

Yet' guiltie Orbell, Leyfurck^, Gnartolite, 
proiecting^ chaunge, tlieirt^ virsut^ lipp so bite, 
as meane to hold the raignes as long<? as male, 
vnlesse that nil bee held that will awaie. 
& now proiect so them to purg^ b' excuse, 
10-10 OM. in Ash. n as 12 aH 

13—13 whoe thus pretend they did Algars surprize, 
not, but as false, did gainst his ffathor rise ; 



(f. 26 b) 



are ready to give 
liim up to Cam- 
ballo. 



168 Algarsifes Generals are ready to give him up, [Pt. X. 
Aigarsife's treach- Wheareiii they vaunte good service to the kinge, 

erous Generals 

^throughe Zeale and dutie in theire governinge. 136 
But now wheare their good kinge Camhuscan's slaine, 
'^ alias " and " well a daie " (full oft they saien), 
** that fact of oures, n'is oures, but th' multitude 
w^ho^ nil bee ruld, ne learn, tFare growne so rude. 140 
2 but gainst him, whome wee guiltie find of's death, 
forsoothe, theire Sanglamorte theie will vnsheath." 
Touchinge Algarsif*?, theare theie readie stande, 
him to deliver vp to Camballs hand 144 

(incase they mote theire peace first make with him), 
for theire gainst Algarsife and th' kinge donn sinn. 
so murdringe towne-artes, vppermost to wricke, 
dare hurt and heale to gaine as poleticke. 148 

Thus did all th' factions of the towne comment, 
W/^'/ch Camball knevve, and how theire marckett 

went; 
yea,2 by intelligence exactlie knewe 
^how prince Algarsife did his fortunes re we, 152 

Whoe (poore soule) for his pleasure sake preferrd 
his sense to reas'n, till smartinge, felt hee errd \ 
for sense afflicted reas'n it leader to see^ 



3 Alffarsifes 
miserable con- 
dition.^ 



He rues his fate. 



i— 1 through zealous dewtie in theirs governing*?, 

but wheare Cambuscan, their*? trewe lunge, is killd, 
("alas 1 " and "well a daie ! '^ full smooth they smild), 
that fact was none of theires, but th' multitud*? w/wch 

2—2 "but whome wee guiltie find of this his death, 

our townes great twoe hand swoord shall draw his breath. 
and touching^ Algarsife, wee readie stand 
him to deliver vp to Camballs hand, 
incase that male our peace and saftie brings, 
as well for Algarsif<? as for the king*?." 
blaming^ theirs people, Whome thinfatuated, 
them on their<? backes with paine to lift vpstated. 
Nathles, all that their<? factious artes comment, 
Camballo knewe, and how theire market went, for 
3—3 ^,f)i^ i-^ Ash. 

*— * how Algarsif^ his miseries did rewe, 

whoe (poor^ prince) for his pleasures sake preferred 
his sense to reasn, vntill smart felt hee errd; 
for sense afflicted reasn hath to discrie, 



Pt. X.] Algarsife laments Us bad Life Sf hard Fate, 169 

^that w/^^ch it could not earst for iollitee. 156 

sitlie Custome in makes ann habitual cliaine : 

whence currs, once kiUinge sheepe, doe kill againe. 

so now hee found theare is no demonstration ^ Aigarsife laments 

but is imperfect without contemplation, 160 

2 and theare in ruminates his captive state, 

lewdlie 'mongst princes falls enumerate, 

Whose wordes and teeres bothe breakinge foorth to- 

geathr, 
Weare his seaes-afterbirth of stormie weather; 164 

and now b' experience of own ofte made prooff , 
his sense of reas'n vnlearnt to huff and snuff. 

**My younge loose liefe w/wch I have lost " (quoth hee) ,^ his young loose 

life, 

" Woold grive mee lesse if it did hurt but mee, 168 

2 yet what is deerer to my selfe then I, 

if it bee tried b' owne sensualitie % 

but my trewe honor and iust fame are lost, his lost honour, 

(love gonn) as th' vulgar to my shame discuste. 172 

then what is honor w/i^'ch hathe left no fame % 

and what is liefe wJdch. hathe lost all good name ^ " 

But hee, whose banckes orerann theire grief e w^th care, 

expressd his bale in tearinge off his heare : 176 He tears his hair 

w/^^ch yet note roote vp th' inward fault^'^ more nye,^ 



out. 



^—1 what earst it could not for prosperitie : 

in which plite findes thear<? is no demonstration, 

2—2 Whearefore to ruminate his captive state, 
doth mongst lewd princes him enumerate?, 
whose teeres with wordes out breakings? both togeather, 
wear<9 his seaes after birth of stormie weather ; 
in w/iich o'rewhelmd experience gave for proofs, 
that sense of reasn had learnt no mor^ to snuff : 
but thus, "My loose liefd w/wch is lost," said hee, 

3—2 but 6 ! what's neerer neere then I to I, 
yf yt bee tried by sensualitie, 
save honor ? Whose trewe and iust fame are lost, 
Yea lost, as th' Vulgar to my shame discust : 
then what is honor, that hath left no fame ? 
and what is lief, w/iich earneth no good name ? 
but I, whose banckes ore run^ with grief and care, 
male bale expresse by tearing<? off this haier^, 
w/iich yet vprootes not th'inward falt6^5 (more nie) 



170 Algarsife's Lament, He longs for Death, [Pt. X. 

^w/i'/ch grow (hee gonn) on his posteritie. 

Aigarsife laments and tlius (they saie) hee plaind (thumpinge his brest), 
^'breake hart^ die vip'r (of men th' vnworthieste) 1 180 
I cannott saie, ne maie men speake or wright 
the number of my faulte,? wAz'ch raee endight ; 
faultes wheareof mote their period end in mee,i 
I woold to my iust punishments^ agree. 184 

having causd his but I have causd my noblest ffathers death, 

Father's death. 

his wrongful! deathe, whoe first infusd^ my breathe : 
his death, whose warrs on mee weare but of love ; 
yet I preferrd his fFoes love his above. 188 

"Was never love more lovelesselie requitted, 
^hatinge my selfe, with hate tis iustelie fytted. 
Whearefore all deathes bee you in mee vnited, 
and snatch hence your convicted and endited; 192 

Let men kill him, Yea doc, doe all yee liste to Algarsiue, 

the ungrateful, , c ■^ i t 

SO as hee cease to leeie, and no more live, 
and wipe out all that false Algaisiue and'es vngratefull sinn^ 

memory of liim. tii i- ■% csn 

bee so raisd out, as hee had never bmn. 196 

^lett neither earth, seaes,* aier, fier, once disclose 
theare livd suchp one as made his frende.? his foes ; 
^ Whoe thearfore getter all kindes of enimies, 
the true, iust, false, vniust." And theare hee cries 200 
that heavn it heard, bound in Yideriaes traines,^ 

1—1 but growe, I dead, on my posteritie." 

then thus hee plaind (oft thumping^? his hard brest) : 

" hart breake, die viper, of men thvn worthiest ; 

sith I note speake, ne maie men saie or write, 

the number of my sinnes w/wch mee indite : 

of all w/wch mote their<? period end in mee ! 
2 gave mee 
3—3 w/wch makes mee hate my self^, to hate best fitted. 

thearefore, all deathes, bee yee in one vnited ! 

and take hence yowr convicted and indited, 

to doe what so yee list with Algarsive, 

so as he ceasse to bee, and no more live ! 

that wicked hee, for his vngratefull sinn, 
^—'^ that neither earth, sea, 
s— ^ hath thearefore gott all kind<?5 or enimies, 

the trew, iust, fals, vniust." that said, out cries, 

that heavn him heard, wrapt in Videreaes trainee : 



Pt. X.] Canace sorrows for Iter Father and Brother. 171 

^ ne'ar to bee freed, no thouglie hee sliooke his Aigarsife acknow- 
ledges his guilt. 
chaiQes/ 

2 and tho liee glassd this in his conscience : 

" no state so sure as that of innocence ; 204 

biit th' tranquil state to give vp t' agitation 

dothe surelie shipwracke make at perturbation." 

so felte hee that all fleshelie purchases 

beginninge sweete, have ende in bitternes.^ 208 

^Longe ear this Amidis to Serra came, Amidis teiisCam- 

iTr>/-ii Q buscan's death to 

wheare hee th misfortunes told of Cambuscane,^ ins widow and 

Dtiu,£rlit'6r» 

with his last farewell t' Ethelta the^ queene, 

^and Canac, whose bothe reddes paeld deadlie teene. ^canaoattue 
her fathers bloodie ensigne t' her hee gave, 213 swoundethfi 

Weepinge, said, did all the kinge wishd to have. 

Shee pufcte.5 his colors on behinde, before, 
her selfe amidd, as was her Siers decore :^ 216 

this halfe before, that other halfe behind, 
thinges past, as present, to recalF to mind. 
^"Ah newes!" (quoth shee),^ '^ mj brother prisoner canace laments 

Algarsife's 
taen I capture and Cam- 

^my ffather (lives hope) ioie, trust, also slaen 1 220 

and I alive. Wellcomm his colors deere,^ 
mj mothers widdowhode shalbee my beere." 
^^that said, adowne shee sancke, dienge in him^^ 



1—1 near<3 to bee freed, though shooke his clinckinge chaines. 
■2 these 6 lines om. in Ash. and the following insei'ted : — • 
W/Mch damned witch, this heering^, did but smile, 
and ioid, shee could surprize by force and wile. 
2—2 Ear this had Amidis to Serra rann, 
wlieare the disaster told of Cambuscan, 
4 his 
^— ^ and to Canace, Whose redd^s wox pale and teene ; 
to whome her ffathers Ensigne vp hee gave, 
did, and said, all the rest the kinge did crave. 
Whose colors Canace doninge hind, before, 
her self<? amid (as was her ffathers lore), 
^— <' om. in Ash. '^ reduce ^— ^ out sobhd, " newes ! 

9—9 jiiy ffather Qi^ies ioies, hopes trust) also slane ! 
and I alive 1 O Ensign ! wellcom deere, 
10-10 tho sighing^, down shee sancke to die in him, 



172 Q. Ethel comforts Canace, Cavibuscans Virtues. [Pt. X. 



(f.27) 
^a eotiragious 
lady.''' 

Queen Ethel 
revives her faint- 
ing daughter 
Canace, 



and comforts her 
by promising 
Algarsife's re- 
lease. 



and by praises of 
Cambuscan. 



^ Whose deatlies daunce did to all his rancke begiii?^ : 224 
Wearinge his embleam th'wart her lillie brest/ 
W/u'ch in her his newe^ funeral exprest. 

At th' sight 3 wheareof Queen Ethel rann in hast, 
and in bothe armes her lithie corse embract, 228 

^ rubbings her temples, stoppd all issninge breathe,^ 
and wrunge her finger hard (th' awakes from death), 
^givinge her spirited eake drawne by divine art 
to tharteirs, to diffuse what chokd her hart. 232 

and well it mote bee sworne that Ethel th' queene 
became the wife of so compleate a kinge f 
for thoughe shee weare the center of the iust, 
^yet no love needes in her loves want distrust. 236 

naie, as her courage, so her love grewe great^ 
each immitatinge (wiselie) eithers seate. 

'Eo sooner was pale Canac raisd to life, 
but th' Queene vp cheerd her, saienge Algarsife^ 240 
shall out bee baild from his imprisonment, 
by suche fitt rannsom as shathe thither sent, 
^and further, of Cambuscan, her trewe knight, 
thoughe hee's betraid in waginge of her right, 244 

his vertues yet have provd him suche an one^ 
as trewer, iuster, lovinger was none. 



1-1 whoe did deathes dawnce to all his file begin : 
his embleam wearing^ thwart her lillie brest, 
2 deere ^ At sight ^— * om. i)i Ash. 

5—5 her temples rubbings, stoppd th' out fadingd? breath, 

Q—Q inpowring^ spirit^^s (extract by divine art) 

in th' arteires to disperse what choakd the hart : 
and lovelie hugging^ her vnto her nyer, 
seemd of Cambuscans lief^ hers to r'inspire. 
what time mote well bee said, Etheelta, heere, 
of so compleate a kinge became the peere. 

''—'<' Yet iustice n'ote trewe love, out of her thrust ; 
for of her iustice love tooke so kind heate, 
as thone succeeded wiselie thothers seate. 

No sooner had Canace (the pale) gott liefe, 
but her the Queene cheerd, sayinge, Algarsife 

8—8 and touching^ Cambuscan (thrice, thrice good knight), 
though is betraied in waginge her iust right, 
yet as his virtewes him have provd such one 



Pt. X.] Monuments are to he raisd to Cambuscan, 173 



^" and so much honor shall betide his name, 

as putter liefe in the dead by quickeninge fame. 248 

nor shall hee die, that aye lives vnto mee,^ 

but hee my liefe shall have, I wilbee hee. 

2 yet had I rather leese him then leese honor; 

honor is liefe : our bo the lives ownes one owner. 252 

suche deathe is liefe, w/izch dienge, is repeated 

of everie livinge soule whose love dothe speake it ; 

still iustelie live theie whoe deigne iustice raise 

etherealie^ enshrind in mortal claies. 256 

^ trophies of marble, garlandes greene of bale, 

temples of cristal, statues faire of raie, 

monument of riche stones, tumb of gold mettal, 

choires of sweete hymnes perpetual, I will setle ; 260 

all these perpolishd I will statelie build ^ 

to him who was for love, traith, iustice killd.^' 

^ These hopes cheerd Canac vp more then the 
former,^ 
Yet beggd shee to b' his everlastings murner, 264 

^as one apprentizd to grief e, care, hope, feares, 
W/r/ch (not dispairinge) never faile of tears. 

When Amidis his embassies had donn, 
full soone t' his lordes sepulcher backe did ronn,^ 268 

^—^ " so honor, thearefor(?, shall efferr his name, 
as in the dead putt<3s lief*?, by quickning^ fame : 
nor shall hee die, whoe still lives vnto mee, 

2—^ yet had I rather leese him, then mine honor, 

w/iich is my liefe ; our both lives own one owner ; 

Whose death is lief<?, w7wch, dieng<s, is relivd 

by that trewe loving*? love, that lief<9 revivd : 

to prove such trewlie love, whoe iustice raise, eternalie 

3—3 whome cristal temples, statuaes faire of raie, 
tropliies of marble, garlandes greene of bay, 
rich monument(C'5 of stone, tumbes of gold metall, 
quires of sadd hymnes perpetual, I will setle, 
and all perpolishd, I will statelie build 
4_4 Thease comfortes more cheerd Canace then the former, 

^— ^ as one apprentizd aye to lovelie cares, 

w/nch, though dispaire not, yet ioies most in teares. 

When Amidis had thus his messag*? donn, 
hee soone did baoke to his Lordes sepulcher run;i, 
6—6 am. in Ash. 



Queen Ethel says 



that Cam busean's 
honourd death is 
Life. 



She will raise 
marble trophies 
and a golden tomb 
to his memory. 



Canace is oheerd, 



but will ever moan 
her Father. 



^Amidis looTces to 
the graved 



174 



Amidis goes back 
to Cambuscan's 



2 ill newes hath 
winges .^ 



It is told and 
retold round the 
world. 



Iloic^ ill neios mysteriously spreads. [Pt. X. 

^for love is Livelie, painefall is trewe love, 

WA?'ch no death of tlie livinge cann remove. 

wheare, lookinge in, his hart repeater this mone, 

^^ L65 heere the cage, after the bird is flown ! " 272 

Yet theare about hee hauntes, lovd theare to bee, 

althoughe his eies sawe not what love woold see. 

I^ow it fell out,i mongst other circumstances, 

W/^'ch coincide with kinges and states mischaunces, 

t'observe^ how soone ill newes abrode are hurld/ 277 

told, and retold, heere, theare, about the world, 

^as bowt the twoe poles turnes th'all rowlinge sphears, 

'W"7^^ch, if ^ removd, woold fill the world with feares. 

so, if a kinge bee killd, or prisoner taen, 281 

no secrecie cann it conceal e from fame, 

^feare bears it knowne, thoughe (ofte) no man knoes 

ho we, 

Yea^ ofte b* vnsensive meanes (as clerked avowe) ; 284 

'^somtimes b' impression of highe shapes in th' aier," 

W/^zch (as in tabliture) is theire^ bewraier ; 

^somtimes th' aier states and kinges actes d'aggregate ,^ 

and, as in mental bodie,^^ them translate, 288 

^^w/i/ch th' aier, to remote aier, foorth shouldreth, till 

\ies science into some folkes it distill. 

and thinges of sympathie binn quicklie known, ^^ 

thoughe farr off, to ^^consympathite^ ythrowne ;^2 292 

1—1 through love, for ever painefull is trewe love, 
ne cann deathes dangers from the lovd it move, 
wheare looking*? in, his hart repeates this mone : 
"16, heere the cage, whence out the turtl is flown." 
nathlesse, hee theareabout did love to bee, 
although his eie sawe not what love did see. 
But heere yt fall^ss 
2—2 om. in Ash, ^ to mark<9 * whurld 
5—0 w/i'ich as the poles, bowt wJiioh runn rolinge spheares, Yf once 
6—^ feare first it makings known, though none wist how, Yet 
7—^ somtimes b' impressions high shapd in the aier, ^ newes 
9—9 wZ/ich aier doth somtimes kinges aotes proclamate, ^^ bodies 
11— u from aier to aier, foorth showldring*?, each to tell 
thimpressions, till in some folke yt they spell, 
wheare thinges of sympathie are quicklie known, 
12—12 consympathies out thrown ; 



often by unper- 
eeivable means. 



Ill news oft travels 
by imagination. 



dicing Thotohun 
voweth revenge.'^ 



Pt. X.] HoiD King Thotohun tliinhs of Cambuscan, 175 

^like as twoe eightes contewninge touch but one, 
thother, contestinge, softlie soundes anon.^ ^ 
^somtimes by force of strongs imagination, 
holpe by some nnmens higbe concomitation ; 296 

but with dreames visional wee liste not mell, 
Wheareof, perchaunce, annother time maie tell. 

On this it chauncd kinge Thotohun of Ind, 
harkeninge newes from Cambuscan (his good frend), 300 
could heere none good. Tho mental perscrutation 
mo wlded much though tes in his imagination, 
Av/u'ch castinge what his frend mote doe this while ^ 
gainst his Eregilien rebelled, thus gann smile,^ 304 

^ saienge, * ' hee cann them chasten at his pleasure, 
and then sende worde theareof by line, and leasure.^ 
Or theie have simplie yeelded to his grace, 
Or^ laid downe armes, or rendred vp the place." 308 
yet of his furthr love borne to his frend 
^hee thus proiected otherwise in minde^ 
Wheather Cambuscans force sufficient weare, 
to force the towne, ^and it b' assault to beare : 312 

but force and fraud the weake and wise maie feare, (f. 27 b) 

as^ daungerous superlatives to steare. 
Out of w/w'ch collecte6" (thoughe by wisdome drawne) 



He devises rea- 
sons, of Cambus- 
caii's success, &c., 
to accoiant for no 
news coming to 
him. 



S—S 



1—^ as when twoe eighths contewnd to touch but one, 
that other softlie doth contest anon. 
Ash. here inserts : — 

so oft in peoples buzzinges is to spie 
a secret truith, they knowe no reason whie. 
and sometime by a strongs imagination, 
holpe by some higher numeus information ; 
oft by dreames visional, w/iich more to tell, 
to verie few is given to revel. 
Yet so yt chauncd, kinge Thotobon of Ind, 
newes harkeninge from Cambuscan, his deere frend, 
dyd cast what his kind frend mote doe this while, 

^— * 07}i. in Ash. ^ stile, 

" hee cann them chasten at own absolute pleasure, 
and theareof send me word by line and leasure. 
and 8—8 thus otherwise proiected in his mind, 
and by assault it beare ; 
Yet force and fraud the weake and wise doe feare, are 



7 
9—9 



176 Hoici Thotobun ihinks he sees an Apparition, [Pt. X. 



K. Thotobun, 
thinking of Cam- 
buscan, 



fancies some 
thieves are in 
his palace. 



He runs to his 
treasury, and se 
an armd man. 



but finds it's his 
own reflection in 



^variet'ie of rare 
glasses.^ 



^he found no suche estate^ or certaine pawne, 316 

how kinge Cambuscan mote (thoughe stronge) bee 

sure/ 
but that Videreaes fraudes might ^ him im??^ure. 
^ While thus his serious thoughte^ him furthered, 
this stronge imagination vext his head, 320 

that in his owne house laie some theeves close hidd, 
whoe, at advantage, woold him robb or ridd. 
so stronglie this impression in him wrought, 
as instantlie his twoe-hand swoord he raught,^ 324 

and rann vp to his private gallerie, 
^Wheare his moste secret thinges and treasures lie. 
E"ow ronninge, L6, One with a drawne swoord coms* 
as fast against him as he forward ronns ; 328 

^ which stoppd him staie, as att ann apparition, 
which seemd at iSrst to bee some sore ment vision. 
But, heedinge, saw twas his perspective glasse 
that shewd himselfe vppon him selfe to passe. ^ 332 

" What 1 wee against ourselves " (behight the ^ 
kinge), 
"this male of somewhat elle^ bee th' alsioninge." 

■^Too longe it weare to thincke of wondrous glasses ;'^ 
how somme at once cann she we a thowsand faces, 336 
and^ some (placd aptlie for prospective) shoe 



1—1 hee found no suertie, nor assured pawn, 

that king/? Cambusc (though stronge) could bee so suer, 
2 mote 

3—3 hee yt permitting^, thus thoughtes mustered 
the strong*? imaginations of his head, 
that in his own howse some close thieves laie hid, 
whoe, on advantage?, him woold robb or rid ; 
the w/wch conceipt so stronglie in him wrought, 
as that foorthwith his twoe edgd swoord hee rought, 

4—4 wheare all his secret matters, layd vp, lie : 

but Yumnge, One out with a drawn swoord comes 

5—5 Which staid him, for none is, but that invasion, 
him summoneth to countermaund thoccasion. 
tho, looking^?, sawe in his perspective glasse, 
him selfe vppon his real selfe to passe. ^ this 

'^-'^ It weare too longe to tell of wondrous glasses, 

8—8 ^y;^^ i/l Jlsh. ^ how 



Pt. X.] Thotohim made the Horse of Brass, 8fc. 177 
^theire farroff walkers neere, in tb.' aier to goe ; The wondrous 

glasses of King 

some, convexd, so catch titans beames by art, Thotobun. 

as turne (contracted) to a fyerie dart ; 340 

some sbewe th whole bodie, some the face alone ; 

some shewe trewe obiecte^, some the fiattringe shoen ; 

some shewe ite6* obiect twice as great as tis, 

Whearein nature and art contend as wise ; 344 

some in a glasse ann absent shade have shoen/ 

and some as worse a sight : let that alone. 

2 Thotobun was the wisest, learned Idnge,^ He is the wisest 

. o i n ^^ ^^'^ Kings. 

that ever turnd the volumes of learnmge ; 348 

^for, all of thighest skie and diepest deepe, 
in th' globes cilinder, and without dothe peepe, 
bird, beast, fishe, fiye, men, everie creeping^ thinge, 
tree, plant, herbe, weede, and each greene leafe that 
springe, 352 

veines, metall, mineralks, all kind of stones, 
and what earth, seaes, aier, fyer breedes to younge bones ; 
no act of nature, moral fact divine, 
no propertie, but he knewe to calcine ; 356 

^ ^ He made the 

for this was hee who made Canaeies sflasse, magic Glass, 

Ring, Sword, and 

the Einge, and Swoord, with the brave horse of brasse ;^ Horse of Brass. 



1—1 see farr oif walkers in the aier to goe ; 

how som, convexd, catch Titans beames by art, 

wJiiah so contract, prove as a fierie dart ; 

how some th whole bodie shewe. some, th'face alone ; 

how some, trewe obiect^;^, some, but flattring^; shone ; 

how some shewe thobiect twice as great as tis, 

whearein art, nature eake, seeme equal wise ; 

how some, in glasse, ann absent shad^? have shoen, 
2—2 W7wch Thotobon was the most reverend king^ 
2—3 for all the diepest diepes, and highest hie, 

yea, the whole Vniverse, rann in his eie, 

men, beast(9.<?, bird^*', fish, flies, everie creeping^ thing*?, 

trees, plantes, herbes, weedes, and all that greene doth springe, 

with metall<?s, mineral*?^, all kind<3s of stones, 

w/tich thearth, aier, sea, fier, breed in millions : 

each act of nature, moral and divine, 

all properties could calcine and sublime. 

for this was hee that mad<? Canaeies glasse, 

the ring<3, and swoord, and the strong*? horse of brasse ; 
LANE. N 



King Thotobun, 
by his art, finds 
that Cambuscan 
is dead. 



1 78 Thotobun sends an Elixir for Cambuscan, [Pt. X. 

^and greater tliinges then all this liee cann sho, 

but all bin curious of their skill that kno. 360 

Hee all these ominous dowbtes to explore, 

them calculates vp in his highest towre, 

Wheare soone hee found his frend distressd, evn 

dead, 
at w/^^ch he stormd. And thus he feircelie sedd : 364 
" And have they vsd thee thus, my Cambuscan % 
He print thy wronges in th' blood of them anan,^ 
2 and skore on th' browes of their posteritie 
ann everlastinge shame of tretcherie.^ 368 

^Yet r.aigne thow shalt, to tread them vnderfoote/' 

So speedelie prepares this learned boote, 
in a well luted violl, close incensd, 
th' elixal elemental quintescencd, 372 

with all th' seaun planetes, spirited, immixt togeathe?^ 
and owne inspir'd breath : w/z^'ch gann deliver^ 
to Columbell their milke-white turtle dove, 
^beinge their common post in case of love. 376 

Him hee bidden post for life, ear th' sonn goe downe,^ 
to kinge Cambuscan, in Fregilia towne, 
and give to Amidis this glasse and note, 
^fche which, kinge Thotobun tyed to his foote.^ 380 



He brews 

*a spirital qtiint- 
escence,'^ 
a life-giving 
Elixir, 



and sends it by a 
Dove to Amidis. 



1—1 and greater thinges then thease cann doe, and shoe ; 

but they binn curious of their*? ^IdMes, that kno. 

Now hee, thease ominous signes to explore, 

them calculated in his highest towr^ ; 

and theare found out his frend distressd, yea, dead ; 

wheareat hee stormd, and, for revenge, thus sedd : 

" have they thus vsd thee, mine owq Cambuscan ? 

I'le write thy Avronges in th' blood of everie man, 
2—2 Qfji^ i^ Ash. 
3—3 Yet shalt thow raign, and tread them vnderfoote." 

tho, speedelie prepard this learned boote, 

thelixir elemental quintessencd, 

w7iich in a luted phiol hee intensd, 

with all planeticke spirited immixt togeather, 

and, by him selfe inspird, did thease deliver 

4—4 QrfJl^ l:^ Ash. 

5-5 v^rhoe was theire common post, in case of love ; 

whome bid^s to post for lief<3, ear th'sonn goe down, 
6-c both w/^ich kinge Thotobon bound to his foote, 



Thotobun's Dove 
reaches Amidis, 



•'' K. Camhiiscan 

aioaketh.^ 

Amidis pours 

tlie p]lixir into 

Cambuscan, 

and it brings him 

to life again. 



Pt. X.] Thotohuns Elixir brings Cambuscan to life. 179 

^ On speedes hee (as a seeg'd townes ilienge post, 
to bringe backe newes of aid^, ear th' towne be lost). 

Now, ear the peepe of dale, Page Amidis 383 

heard the doves voice on th'ouse topp ear him sees.^ 
"good newes" (quoth hee), tho, ronninge foorth,^ 

behold 
2 the dove brought to his hand, the message told, 
for this familiar Dove twixt yond twoe kinges^ 
v\rent boldlie too and fro, as vsen f render. 388 

^Tho Columbel and Amidis in rann,^ 
and powrd thelixar into Cambuscan, 
^Whoe foorthwith wooke in Tartaric, and rose, 
callinge for meate, his armor, and out goes. 392 

for ioie wheareof, (quoth weepinge Amedies), 
"no treasure to a ffrend," tho dried his eyes ; 
and theare they sweetlie entertaind the dove, 
w^^ch tooke his leave, and fiewe to thowses rove. 396 

Quicklie Cambuscan tho tooke from his midle 
his leather hunger vraste, Ducelloes bridle, 
and armd and dond Morliuo his good swoord, 
tho, to thetherial welkin, he susurrd ^ 400 

Ducelloes vsual call. Who came straight waie ; 

1—1 to file with all, as siegd townes flienge post 

hath letters born, When other meanes wear^^ lost. 

When 16 ! ear th'peepe of daie, Pag^ Amidis, 
on th'owses topp heard the Doves voice of this. 
2 to 
3—3 the Dove into his hand this message told ; 

for this familiar bird, 'twixt thease twoe kinges, 
*~* then Amidis from Columbell in rann, 

^— ^ om. in Ash. 
6—6 Whoe foorthwith wooke, start vp, to Iief<9 arose, 
and calld for meat^, his armor, and his clothes. 

for ioie wheareof, yong^ Amids nose did bleed, 
out crying^, " O ! trew loves good sign at need." 
then having<9 sweetlie entertaind the dove, 
hee tooke leave, and thence flewe to thowses rove. 
At thinstant, Cambusc tooke from off his midle 
his leather hungar band (Ducelloes bridle), 
w/wch donning^, and with Morlivo, his swoord, 
hee to thethereal welkin soft susurrd 
^— '^ om. 'hi A sit. 

N 2 



"^ Ms bras en horse 
flgMetJi.'^ 

(f. 28) 
Cambuscan arms, 
and calls his 
Horse of Brass. 



Cambuscaii sets 
Algarsit'e tree. 



His soldiers cry. 



^alaru\n mis- 
takenfi 



Camballo's 
charge, 



180 Camhuscan, alive again^ frees Algarsife. [Pt. X. 

^afrendiy ^And then hee cliargd home, wheare Algarsiue laye, 

hewd ope the gates, cutt off his chaines, enlargd hmi, 
and, but with one wound givn on's head, dischargd 
him. 404 

Algarsifs soldiers, russhinge to the prison, 
and findings th' gates wide ope, b'yond powr of reason, 
but missinge him, did passionatelie crie. 
Whereat Prince Camballs hoste rose instantlie, 408 
as at a soddaine ambusshes alarum, 
speedelie aunswerd by thwhole armies swarme. 
And tho Binato, Camball, Akafir 

rann to thassault, as close as troopes mote stirr : 412 
Whose choler now had in them domination, 
beinge revenges swif teste vindecatioo. 
but as they chardgd, " Ethel, Canac," they cried, 

but find no foe. *' Cauac, Ethel," yet not a foe discried. 416 

Wheareat they musde, deeminge them fledd, or packinge, 

w7/.^ch soone denouncd that Algarsife was lackinge. 

But 16, a midd the marckett place a noise, ^ 

composd of manie a rewfull-dienge voice, 420 

WMch^ " mercie, mercie ! " cried, " o gratious kinge ! " 

6 This drewe vp th'oste, to see one glisteringe, 

armd, on a flarainge horse, with blasinge swoord,^ 

1—^ on whome remounted, BQites his ffoes at bay, 

chardgd, heawd the gates ope, cutt the chaines, enlargd him, 
evn Algarsifs, whose head though hurt, dischardgd him. 
Algarsifs soldiers, mn'mge to the prison, 
fownd the gates ope, beyond theirs powr^ and reason, 
and thearefore could not chowse but make out crie, 

W/iioh heard Camball oes host, rose instantlie 
and armd Binato, Camball, Aquaphir, 
rann to thassalt, as close as troopes incurr ; 
for tho had choler in them domination, 
apt to provoke iustice to vindication : 
for as they rann, " Etheel ! Canac ! " they cried, 
" Canac ! Etheel ! " yet was no ffoe discried. 
wheareat they musd, them iudging6^ fledd, or packing<?, 
w/i^ich soone denouncd Algarsife thenc<9 was lacking*?. 

While 16 ! amid the marcket plac^, a noyse 
~2 om.. in Ash. ^-'^ om. i?i Ash. *-* oni. in Ash. » that 
C--6 WMch crie drewe thost to kenn one glistering^ 
in golden armor, horssd, with naked swoord, 



4fc. Camh. 
recoueretli ihe 
toion alone^ 



Pt. X.] Camhuscan 8f Ms Horse slay the Fregiliafis, 181 
^Wlioe, like swifte liglitninge, througli th' Fregiliens cambuscan aione 

on his Horse of 
Skowrd, 424 Brass, puts the 

Fregilians to 

returninge standes, troopes, squadrons, all that nees, flight. 
save those whome downe right hlowes smote on their 

knees.^ 
^jN'ow, now Ducello, for his master fightinge, ^fiercnesofy^ 

brasen horse.^ 

gave all vp to bee killd hee caught by bitinge, 428 

distroienge all and some, that stood in^s way, The Horse idiis 

all folk who get 

nor left hee one vnfetchd vp (gonn a straie) : in his way. 

in so much that they who admird this horse 
stood stupified, havinge thus felt his force. 432 

Not Diomedes horse (Heshe eatr of men) 
had e'ar th* obedience this atchivd o're them ;2 
^so all men grauntes the kinges feirce bloes weare suche 
for strength, length, waight, ne'ar knight coold halfe so 
much. 436 

Tho Camball (saunce resistance) tooke the towne, cambaiio takes 
albeet annoth'r first beare the renowne, ^^^^ ^^' 

Hee, hee, twas hee, whose swoordes wrath staid in time, 
of clement hart shewd in hott blood this signe,'* 440 and shows mercy. 
that onlie Loue hathe pittie to forgive 
^Wheare iust revenge mote kill, or not reprive. 
behinde whome, when page Amidis theie spied,^ 
how all the matter went, was soone discried. 444 



1—1 that, like blewe lightnings, the Fregiliens skowi'd, 

payd, ore turnd stand^^, troopes, shock^s ; yea mad^ all flee, 
save them whome down right strokes f elld to the knee : 
2—2 these 8 lines om. in Ash. ^—^ o?n. in Ash, 

4—4 whoe theare confessd his dreadf ull blowes weare such, 

for waight, strength, length, as neare knight halfo so much ; 

whose horses mowth all those hee caught fast held, 

and offred vp to his Lord, allreadie killd, 

oretramplinge all the rest, subdewd, bestrowen, 

eWes had his rider oft binn overthrown. 

Tho Camball tooke (without resists) the town, 

w/tich earst his ffather wann, as heere is showen, 

Cambuscan staying^ his feirce swoord in time, 

of clement hart, in hott blood, this good sign, 

5—5 whear6< iust revenge mote sternelie all deprive. 
By whose horse syde when Amidis they spide, 



,^AIgarsife taken 
& bound by 7ds 
brother Cambal.^ 



182 Cambuscan gives up Fregiley to his Soldiers, [Pt. X. 

1 Wheareat th' whole host flunge vp such acclamation, 

as when theavns does all thinges b'yond expectation^ 

and now helivd, and sawe twas Cambuscan, 

Whearefore all th'oste to take all prisoners rann.^ 448 

Camball tooke Algarsife, and bound him fast, 

yet, as a frendlie ffoe, him oft embract. 

^ theare was no soldier but tooke prisoners store, 

and made all theires w/^^'ch thothers robbd before. 452 

"0'' (quoth Cambuscan), ^'are Yee now come 
downe, 
my boies % He give yee, for yowr paines, this towne : 
Y' all shalbee cittisens/' Tho hee alighted, 
and sweetr embracd ev'n everie one he knighted, 456 
cleapinge them fellowe soldiers, and coheires^ 
of th'onors w7^^ch hee gettes in these affaires, 
^suche was this noble kinges truith, iustiee, love, 
as all theire hartes his gifted with ioie approve. 460 

W/itch knowne, full manie a towne in Tartaric 
them yeelde.*?, and sent in pledges instantlie.* 

Tho, vp hee putt&9^ his swoord (a j)cacefLill signe), 
but first hee did a gen'ral serche inioine, 464 

through all the towne, and in all secret corners, 
"^for his malitious ffoes, beinge theare soiorners,"^ 



Cambuscan gives 
his soldiers Fre- 
giley, 



5 tartarien townes 
yealded vpP 



Cambuscan orders 
a search for his 
foes. 



1—1 wheareat th whole host gave vp such acclamation, 
as when heavn all thinges doth b'yond expectation, 
then plainelie seeing^ this was Cambuscan, 
to take all prisoners, everie soldier rann. 
2— -2 Qyyi^ i^ Ash, 

3—3 when not a soldier but tooke prisoners skore, 

theires makings that those pillard<?5 robbd of yor^. 
" Are yee comd vp ? ^' Cambuscan said to his men, 
*' rie give yee for your paines this town agen, 
wheareof yee shalbee Cittisens." tho lighted, 
and (them embracing^) with his swoord hee knighted, 
Yea cleapd them fellowe soldiers, and coheires 

4—4 tho they, vppon theirs knees, with ioie approve 
what hee did for them, by truith, iustiee, love. 
W/wch famd, full manie a town in Tartaric, 
rose, 3^eilded, and sent pledges instantlie. 
^— ^ oni, in Ash, ^ putt 

'^—'^ for his old capital foes (theere soiorners) 



Pt. X.] Cambuscan is stern to Algarsife, 183 

Yiderea, Horbell, Leyfurcke, Gnartolite, ^traMersjugu} 

2 for these weare they had donn him most dispite. 468 

But none of these could b' anie means be found, viderea and the 

8 treacherous 

because theare was discovered vnderground^ Generals escape 

a vast abisse or dungeon, ribbd with bone, ground passage. 

right ^ darcke, and hollo we built, and^ laid with lome, 

w7?ich had a passage to the Posterne gate, 473 

^and this waie twas the traiters gott out at. 

Tho t' him theie brought fast bound Princ Algarsife, ^ Aigar .- is pre- 
sented prisoner.^ 
on whose sadd browe was writt muche woe and grife ;^ 

Whome when the kinge sawe, said, "Hence naughtie cambuscan orders 

his rebel son 
knave! 47/ Algarslte away, 

^so, turnes him fro, and nought but frowninges gave. 

Then'^ Amidis and Camball beggd for him, 

beseechinge pardon for his^ prisoners sinn, 480 

^ Whose weakenes, eake, beggd for him this good time,^ 

thus ffoes to begg for ffoes, is frendships^^ signe. 

i^Howbeet, he balkd theire importunitie, and refuses to 

With sterne-sett count'naunce (in austeritie),^^ 484 

on which theie lecturd, that love to provoke 

i^dothe challenge iustice at her feircest stroke ; 

so read they, that the maiestie of a kinge (f. 28 b.) 

(abvsd) nis soone pleasd with eie fingeringe.^^ 4gg 

1—1 om. in AsJi. 
2—2 thease beinge they had donn him all dispite. 

Yet none of them, as yet, could theare bee found, 
for that theare was discovered vnderground 
2 most ^ o're 

5—^ at w/itch by waie the traiters scapd out at. 

Yet theare was brought to him bound prince Algarsif^, 
on whose sad browe weare; graven sorowes rif^. 

6—6 pjji^^ j.j^ J^gJi^ 

7—7 and, turnings from him, nought but frowning^5 gave ; While 

8 the 
9—9 -whose personal weakenes eake beggd this good time : 
10 trewe loves 
11— n Nathles the kinge waivd thimportunitie 

with wrinckled browe, which, swore austeritie, 
12—12 ^Qi\i iustelie challenge iustice angrie stroke, 
so as the maiestie of anie kinge 
abvsd nis soone pleasd with guiltes flubberlnge. 



184 Cambuscan refttses to forgive Algarsife, [Pt. X. 



Cambusean re- 
bukes Camballo 
and Amidis for 
pleading for 
pardon for Algar- 



^Whearfore the kinge his soim and page rebukes, 

saienge, ' they want discretion in their suites, 

in deeminge that so coninge ann offender, 

audatious eake, shoold slipp on termes so slender ; 492 

as if th'offenders (more of will then weaknes) 

shoold doe as liste, then vaunt theire weake com- 

pleatnes ; 
so pleasures of suche weaknes woold bee th' cause/ ^ 
^^ but, credite mee, sweete meate shall have sowr sawce ; 
2 for single eies I knowe, from squintinge litle, 497 

and him who slilie hault^s before a criple. 
Ells might each humorous- wanton appetite, 
or thirst of bribe, &c., w/w'ch custom hathe t' excite,^ 
begg, with selfe-rawe-made legged' (as beggers kno^), 
He will not get it. ^and cleape it weaknes : but hee scapes not so. 502 
sithe I twixt him and yee this difference putt, 
that -f have watcht, warded, fought with eniptie 
gutt, 504 

and rann those wantes and daungers w/?,2ch I rann, 
but Algarsif^ woold none with Cambuscan ; 
Whearefore hee shall conforme to all wee did, 
or by my swoord I sweare, off goes his head 1 ^ 508 



He has rebeld. 



termes P 



1—1 jjee, thearefore, to his sonn and pag^ imputes 
bold indiscretion, to presume, by suites, 
that ann ideal settings — false Offender 
(of knaves the wurst) should scape on termes so slender ; 
as yf Offenders, more of will then weakenes, 
should doe what list, then vaunt of weake compleatnes : 
so pleasure of such weaknes should bee th'cause, 

2—2 for I well knowe single eies from squintinge litl, 
and him that slyly halt<?.9 before a criple, 
ell<?s mote each wanton humorous appetite, 
or thirst of bribe, &:c., w/iich custom cann excite, 
3 doe [See Harman's Caveat, p. 5, 51, ed. 1869.] 

*~* and weakenes humbbik^* (?) cogg, but scapes not so ; 
for I twixt yee and him this difference putt, 
that yee watchd, warded, fought, with emptie gutt, 
yea, rann those wantes and Dangers w/iich I ran : 
yet this knave woold not so with Cambuscan ; 
whearefore, him not conforming^ to all wee did, 
this trewe iust swoord shall reave the traitors head. 
s~5 QQ^^ ifi jish. 



Pt. X.] Queen Ethel is to decide Algarsifes fate, 185 

^Toucliinge your loves suite, heere's my iuste beheste, 

his mother shall have him, to doe as list." Aigarsife's 

mother is to de- 

This aunswer taught th' younge suitors thus to stann, cide his fate, 
that wills the greater halfe of everie man. 512 

so Algarsife, bound, backe to Gaile they bore, He is taken back 

to prison. 

not daringe to speake for him one word more. 

L6, heere the ioifull dale of victorie,^ victorie.^ 

of livelie mirthe, to murninge contrarie, 516 

for Phebus now, whoe whilome blachd his face, 
^wore bright-gold eglettes edgd in richest trace, The sun shines 

which, (lett at nitent length) his orient haier 
made his cleere-praesence chamber everie wheare : 520 
and entringe into his cleane azurne haull,^ 
dauncd a brave galliard (which becoms * the taull) 
"With smoothe, then loftie, trickes, then smoothe againe ; 
^" neere halfe ann howr wee saw't,'' so mote yee plaine. 
evn as a friskinge lambe gann daunce, ronn, bound 525 dmiiefi 
by dam??2s kind side,'ne cares to stand on ground f 
so lordlie Phebus frolickd in his spheare, 

■^and this of custome gann this dale each yeere, 528 everyday. 
Which claimes for argument to somme to prove, 
swifte-fierie Sol, not earthie ops, do the move.'' 

1—1 now touching^ jow loves suite, my full behest 

is that his mothr<? him have, to doe at list." 
this aunswer taught bold suitors this to stann, 

y* will's the greater halfe of anie man. 

so backe to Jaile Algarsife, bound, they bore, 

not daringe to speake one word for him more. 

Yet 16 ! the dale of ioiefuU Victorie, 
2 om. in Ash. 
3—3 Dond his brode brodered egglete^ for solace, 

and lett at danglings length his orient haiere, 

to make his presence chamber everie wheare, 

him vauncinge in his cleane swept azurn haul, 
* became 
^—^ neere halfe ann howre, whioh they beheld full faine, 

mount as a friskinge Lambe, gan run and bownd 

by own Dames side, not caringe t' stand on ground : 
^ om. in A((7i. 
7—7 on this faire festival dale everie yeare. 

for argument a proprijs, drawn to prove, 

Sols fierie selfe, not earthie Ops, doth move. 



186 Camhuscan's Order of the Golden Girdle. [Pt. X. 



^festiiial day of 
viGtorie? 



Cambuscan 
founds tlie Order 
of the Golden 
Girdle in lionour 
of the Dove wlio 
brought his life- 
restoring Elixir. 



He gives a great 
Feast. 



Atnidis is chief 
guest. 



^ Cambuscan now, to celebrate this daie, 
solemnizd a great feast t' all men, they sale ;i 532 

and for his^ knightes of th' order honorable, 
^of cedar kervd he built a larg^. round table, 
and calld it thorder of the golden girdle, 
in kind remembrance of that milke white tirtle, 536 
w/^^ch, on this daie, gann vanquishe death w^th liefe ; 
so theare sate all his knightes, save Algarsife. 
To tell the dainties of their roial fare, 
of boild, roste, bakd, of flagons of nectare, 540 

of statelie pastworkes, of wild fowle and birdes, 
of march pane stuff, w7z2ch closeted fine affoorde^, 
no princes kitchen clerke coold tell in haste,^ 
for it Lucullus in Apollo past ; 544 

^but theare was livelie meate, and drincke to fare, 
w7?,^ch no wheare elle^ was founde to eate but theare. 
It pleasd the kinge, that Amidis his page 
sate chiefe guest, bove the kinge (though younge of 
age), 548 

because his Loue had followd him till deathe, 
and never left him till new liefe gave breathe. 
Wheareat some iocund knightes* this question move,^ 



1—1 Cambuscan, tho, to celebrate the daie, 
solemnizd a great ffeast for all, they sale, 
^—2 Qjjfi^ i^f^ Ash. ^ all 

4—* hee built, of Cedar kervd, a larg^ round table, 
w/woh hee cleapd thorder of the golden girdle, 
in kind remembrance of the milke white Turtl 
w/^^ch on this daie deignd vanquish death with liefe, 
wheare sate down all his knightes, save Algarsife. 
But now to tell theire Daintie, roial, fare, 
of boild, rest, bakd, Of Nectars flagons rare, 
of statelie paest workes, wild fowles store, and birde^^f, 
of march pane stuff, w^ich wateringe teeth soone boordes, 
no Princes kitchen clerke could quote in hast, 

^■—^ sith of the livelie meat and drincke then theare, 
was no wheare elles fownd : Dainties still are rare. 
Wheare't pleasd the kinge, that Amidis his page 
sate chiefe gwest bove his Lord, though yonge of age, 
for that, of love, had followd him till death, 
no iote him leavinge, while liefe drewe his breath, 
W/^ich vrgd some of the knightes this question t'move, 



Pt. X.] Cambmcan speaks on Love^ Truth, Justice, 187 

^ Whie blie kinges selfe (as iust) sate not above % 552 

To whome the kinge the question thus discuste : vz.^ 

" Love without iustice is not Love, but lust, 

and^ iustice without love is crueltie; 

for I by love doe live, by Justice die. 556 

* And iustice without truith is tyrannie ; 

but truith without Justice is slogardie. 

l!^aie, truith without love is false veritie, 

as love without truith is hypochrisie. 560 

yea, love without truith is but surquedrie : 

So love without iustice is lenitie, 

such as fond cockeringe spillethe vtterlie, 

W/wch, partialie, gives and takes indulgence, 564 

while it to iustice vseth connivence.^ 

5 But my caracters bin love, truith, iustice; 

so, not to have true love, of all dothe misse, 

as to lacke Justice, love and truith are gone, 568 

sithe eache converter, in wisdom, t' vnion. 

Whearfore, love wrongd is truiths iust ielowsie, 

and iustice wrongd is trewe-loves iniurie.^ 

^Whence, to provoke Love and truith impiouslie, 572 

provokes sterne Justice to severitie. 



anali/sii.^ 
Cambuscan says 



that as Truth 
without Justice 
is Sluggavdy, 



and Love without 
Justice is Lenity, 



(f. 29) 

so opposition to 
Love and Truth 
makes Justice 
severe. 



whie the kinge's self^ (trewe, iust) sate not above ? 
Wkloh question thus and thus, the king^? discust : 

2 oni. in Ash. ^ so 

these 9 I'mes om, in Ash. and the following inserted: — 
w/wch love mee obedient made to iustice lore, 
that, humbl, I mote, bove iustice, love restor<? ; 
for nought hath iustice stern to satisfie, 
but guiltles Love, iustices remedie. 
for trewe love each waie beares iust innocence, 
wheareby repaires feirce iustices offense, 
w/iioh love's my character, so iustice is ; 
then iustice to neglect of both doth misse : 
for love provokd, turnes iustice ielowzie, 
w/iich wisdom hath to extend iudicialie. 
the next 8 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted :- 
Yet meeke love and stern iustice so convert 
as each, in each, own scopes have to insert, 
as reason seefch cause to make extense, 
but so as both neare angrie bee at onc*^. 



188 Cambuscan drinks a Health to his Knights, [Pt. X. 
Yet Love turns yet, wheare trewe love (distressd) for pittie sewethe, 

J ustice to Love. 

Justice turnes lover : Mercie all subdewetn. 
But falshode, w/^^'cli is truithes old enimie, 576 

wantes love and iustice : so u'atli lenitie. 
All w7i/ch your soules wisdome throughe reasons eie, 
male moderate to pious remedie. 
And as Love is But^ love the signe, and seale is of perfection, 580 

tlie soul of Per- o • i -i t t 

fection, Amidis ^w/i^cli all deliuereth to th vse of dilection,^ s 

is set highest at ^7.1 u-t 'i- i i; 

the Feast. ^w/i^ch muitipiienge m him, so begetter, 

as, vpmost on my right hand, heere hee setter.'' ^ ^ 

^The knightes, all satisfied heereat, sate still, 584 
havinge from these his reasons heard their fill. 

7 a loving Tho this most roial kinge bode fill the cupp, 

carrouse.l 

and lookd on all with cheerfull aspectes vpp, 
saienge, *''My knightes, this cupp, by th' warr, I 
sweare,^ 588 

hathe, as yee knowe, cost me right deerlie deere. 
Cambuscan drinks ^^ow, heer's a^ hclthe t' vee all, with all my hart." 

the health of his "^ 

Knights. ^Ai that adowne theire knees theie quicklie start,^ 

*'on these conditions, that this towne I wonn 592 

1 w/iich 
2—2 and both delivereth to thvse of election, 
2 Ash, here inserts : — 
love seasoning!? temperance (natures remedie), 
the faire queene regent of integritie. 
w/i^ch love bove nature ruleth by correction, 
so is victorious, band eake, of perfection ; 
Love makinge peace, and Concordes harmonic, 
all frendlie ioyninge, in one Vnitie. 
4—4 and love yt muitipiienge in him gettes 
that in my bosome charitablie sittes, 
^ Ash. here insei'ts : — 
demonstrating^, of faith, hope, charitie ; 
the last is first, so getteth soveraigntie." 
6—6 ^t this, the knightes, full satisfyed, sate still, 
oft havinge on his reasons fedd theire fill, 
and now determined, concludentlie, 
Love is the founder of integritie. 

Tho, this most noble kinge bidden fill his cupp, 
and (cheerefullie of countenance), lookinge vp, 
thus haield, " My knightes, this cupp (yfaith, I sweare) 
'^—'^ om. in Ash. ^— ^ so heer's ann 

^—^ wheare at not one sate, but on knees down start, 



Pt. X.] Fregiley is rebuilt, and calld ' Ca7iacamor! 189 

^yee shall safe keepe by those meanes I begunn." 

so,i in that cnpp vnites them lovingelie. 

^Theie swore theie woold, and pledgd him hartelie. 

" l!^ow, thearfore, si the it is my daughters dowre, 596 Cambuscan alters 

the name of Fre- 

still shall yee call this towne Canacamor,^ giiey to 'Canaca- 

thoughe other ancientes it Eosalia call ; 

2 others, the standinge vp of them wAtch fall." 

That said, the knightes flunge vp theire capps for 
ioie, 600 

saienge, " Yiuat Canac ! Vine Le Eoy ! "^ 

Tho, givinge thanckes, Cambuscan soone arose, ^ reparations ^ 

fortifications t 

of his^ townes reparation to dispose ; Discipline of 

warr.'^ 

<5and first buildes vp the walk^, so stronge and hie, 604 

as highe, ne lowe, climbes o're ne putter it buy. He rebuilds the 

town walls, 

Next,^ turnes a cristal streame int' everie streete, lays water in 

1,1 1 T 1 , . . every street, 

to washe them cleane, and keepe the cittie. sweete. 

Then,"^ for his garrison leaves victualler store, 608 stores the garri- 

that warr, ne peace, shoold cause ^ it want no more ; 

^or if it chaunce some to bee of their order, 

hee bidder that none bee taken by disorder,^ 611 and orders g:ood 

soldiers to be 

but that they maie with stronge ladder ^^ fill his bander, ciiosen. 

bidder first clapp on them bothe their valient hander, 

1^ to trie,ii then soldiers chouse of virtuous brest, 

sith^^ of tonge stories, hand glories are beste. 

1'^ mutinister and wronge doers all hee hates, ^^ 616 

1—1 yee shall by those meanes safe keepe I begunw." then 
2—2 all swearings they woold pledge him hartelie. 

" Now sith, hencefoorth, this is my daughters dowre, 
yee still shall call her town Canacemoure, 
3—3 and some, the standings vp of them that fall." 

At that, the knightes flunge vp theire hattes for ioie, 
and cried, " Viuat Canace ! Vine Le Eoy ! ' ' 
*— * 07)1. in Ash. ^ this 

^— ^ and first, the walles vp buildes so stronge and hie, 

as great, ne small, o're climbes, or slipps out bye. then 
^ and ^ make 

9—9 w/wch donn, yf chaunce that some bee of his order, 
hee biddes none bee receavd in by disorder, 

1^ men "-ii for proofe 12 foj. 

13—13 <i a]} mutiners, and doers vvronge, I bate, 



190 Akafir is made Governor of Canacamor. [Pt. X. 

cumbuscan orders ^and bidden' tlieiii all be turnd out att the gates/ 
vnlesse tbeie ^sorrowe and^ repent their factes-, 
and make amende6^ to doe no more suche acte6' ; 
^leavinge it in free choise to suche as tarrie, 620 

that iiis Soldiers " allleuge them to vs, well male they marrie." 

may marry, 

But that sicke soldiers live stronge, and so die^ 
(active and nimble of dexteritie), 
and tiuit sick ones hcc bidden with olives fatt to rubb them over, 624 

shall be oild. 

aiid^ phisicke^ confidence shall them recover. 
He builds 12 City Twicc six gatcs to his towne hee edifyed, 

Gates. 

^and to each gate one porter leaves for guide,"^ 
t' admitt no weapon ed straungers to annoie them, 628 
but, if suche will make entrie, first distroie them ; 
^and wilks them providentlie watch and ward, 
so as all men keepe their owne courtes of gard.^ ^ 
•^ admiral made ^Tliat Said, the kiugc Dou Akafir gann call, 632 

governer? 

He appoints Who in this scrvicc was his admirall, 

Governorof and, in his stead, first gracd him with th'onor^ 

Canacamor. p • i • j /^t m 

01 governiDge nis towne Canacamor :^^ 

in hope hee will so faithfullie demeane, 636 

11 as still hee find his towne stronge, virtuous, cleane ; 

expectinge, sithe hee leaves him chiefe commaunder,ii 

hee shall keepe in his men, keepe out each straunger ; 

1—1 and bid all such bee turnd out at the gate, ^—^ sorowfuU 
3—3 yt leavings to free choise for such as tarrie, 

that them alying<? to vs heere maie marrie," 

then that sick^ soldiers maie five strong<3 and die. '* so 

^— ^ and twice five Porters left thear^ for theirs? gwid, 
6—6 wheareto bidd<?5 providentlie watch and ward, 

so as all men keepe well theirs court<?s of gard. 
^ A$li, here inserts : — 

" but thus yee keepe thease rules and goe the rown, 

cann ever govern faithfullie my town." 
8—8 That said, hee first Don Aquaphir did call, 

whoe in his service had bin Admiral, 

and, thearefor^, in his stead gracd with thonoure 
^—9 om. in Ash. 
1^ A sh. here inserts : — 

providing^ one most apt to Vnitie, 

sith more in number, distract monarchic : 
11—11 as hee still keepe his town trewe, iust, stronge, cleane, 

expecting^? eake, sith leaves him chiefs commaunder. 



Pt. X.] Cambuscans Megulations for Canacamor town, 191 

•^but if his owne will needes exceede licence, 640 cambuscan orders 

offenders to be 

bidden Sentinells them sboote to bulge thofiience, shot, 

inioininge eake '' t' all soldiers that bee mine, 

that they peciselie keepe warrs discipline ; 

nor will I so dispense with anie man, 644 

as willinglie followes not Cambuscan : 

JSTow, who so poisoneth anie water springe,! and poisoners of 

' ^ ^ . springs, kild. 

let him not live, but die for murderinge."^ 

3 and thus concludes, loves, truithes, and iustice storie, 

to bee th'eternal garland of trewe glorie.^ 649 

*^Dred soveraigne lord," behight Don Akafir, ^soMierUereso- 

^^sith on poore mee these honors yee conferr, 

heere I depose, ear I your towne forgoe, 652 

^Downewardes my handes,my feete shall vpwardes gro."^ 

This aunswer likd^ Cambuscan verie well, 
in whose face free forgivenes seemd'^ to dwell. (f. 29 b.) 

Tho lookinge vp to the sonnes middaie diall, 656 
hee told his knight es ^hee'l yet^ make further trial Cambuscan 

. promises to try 

9 of theire worth (ear longe) m Serra Proumce.^ bis Knigiits' 

... . worth at his 

for sureiie hee was a most stirrmge prince, Grand Tourney. 

i^sithe him prepares to thilke Grand turniamente 660 

W/i^'ch earst b' his heraultes, to all Courtes hee sent : 

by whose example everie ioifull man^^ 

1—1 and if his own, his licence will exceed, 

bides centinelles them shoote, and burn with reed, 
"for I inioine all soldiers that are mine 
to keepe peciselie warres strict discipline ; 
nor will I once dispense with anie man, 
that willinglie followes not Cambuscan. 
and whoe so poisoneth anie water springs, 
'^ Ash. liere ins&)'ts : — 

and bidd<5S Camball and Aquaphir with speed, 
yea, faithfullie defend Canace at need, 
^~^' concluding^ heere, Loves, truithes, and iustice storie, 
that earns theternal garland of trewe glorie. 
4—4 am. in Ash. 
5_5 Y^ixiQ handes shall downeward, my feete vpward, groe." 
^ pleasd '^ tooke ^—^ hee ment 

9—9 of all theire worthes in Serraes old province. 
10—10 that him reservd for that grand turniament, 

w7(f.ich hee to all Courtes by his heraultes sent; 
by whose example everie valient man 



192 



allusio.^ 



Trumpets sound 
strains of peace. 



Cambuscan rides totvards home. [Pt. X, XL 

^cried "bootie Cella," to depart anan. 663 

Out blewe the trumpettes pointer of victors pleasure/ 
for, the warrs ended, peace found dulcet leasure 
to chaunt ^and flaunt^ out thrillant clangors hie, 
in aeriel carrowses to the skie : 667 

^faire Ecchoes pledges seeminge to adore them, 
vntill theie sawe the sonn iogg home before them,* 
^as sweete, as faire, reioisinge everie hart, 670 

so sange the birdes evnsonge, his lothe depart.^ 



Part XL 

AlgarsJfe is 
forgiven. 
Cambuscau's 
guests come to his 
Tournament. 



Cambuscan rides 
homeward. 



Thotobun's Dove 
flies to Queen 
Ethel. 



i^ p^ Jfwn(7 post 
seene of CanaoA'^ 



4-4 

^— ^ these 

10—10 



Ccmto Vndecimo, 

Juste Ethel deignes grace to ^ false Algarsife;^ 
kinge Thotobun, and^ Theodore arives, 

Equestril, Togantil, Quadrumal ^with, &c.s 
Dueltra false, Cromatia eake^ convives. 

i^The wagginge foote riddes waie, Cambuscan than 

had many miles in fewe howres, homewardes rann, 

till softlie came into his Inn at night, 

t'enioie gladd reste, dothe travilers invite. 

But longe ear this, white Columbel, the post, 

on aierie pineons, cleaft th'orisons cost, 

and visited queene Ethel : Whence he fledd, 

to make his point o're right Canacies head. 

ffor ioie wheareof , when shee on highe did looke,^^ 

gan bootie cella to depart anan ; 

the trumpet^s soundings straines of Victors pleasure, 

2 om. in Ash. ^~^ rechaunt 

faire Eccho, pledging^ all, seemd to adore them, 
& tho the ioyfull Son ioggd home before them. 
2 lines om. in Ash. ^~^ Algarsif<9 her sonn, '' with 



harsh 

The wagginge foote ridd^^ waie, so Cambuscan 
in fewe howres having*? manie leag^s out ran, 
came fair^ and softlie to his In at night, 
that rest to take that doth the weerie invite ; 

before wMch time, White Columbel, the post, 
having<9 cleft*? through thorizons aerie coast, 
light^5 with queene Etheel, and from her soone fled, 
to make her point o're right Canaices head, 
for ioie wheareof, when shee aloft did looke, 

11—11 ^,;;j^ l^i Ash. 



Pt. XL] Algarsife brought home captive 8f wounded, 193 



iconceavd good newes, and thence great comfort tooke; 

W/^^ch to report, sliee to her mother rami, 

in hope of good newes of kinge Cambuscan. 12 

Tho Titan in th'oriental-tremblinge wave 
his lavor filld, his golden browes to lave, 
so lent his tresses to the windes to playe, 
in a greie amice, tokeninge fairest daye, 16 

vp lightinge travilers, to gett them gonn,^ 
for time will (as occasion) staie for non. 

But^ 16, as Canac stoode at prospective, 
her glasse discried from farr a troopes arive, 20 

3 makinge (in hastie sort) to Court : at laste 
shee sawe, with ioie, a sight did her agast, 
sithe soone shee founde Camball, her younger brother, 
had brought Algarsif, prisoner, bound, t' her mother, 24 
with his head wounded sore. Wheareat shee start,^ 
for love in her made all his paines her smart, 
^yet now him havinge (thoughe on hardest termes), 
a sisters pittie on a brother yernes ; 28 

whome downe shee tooke from horsbacke, in her amies, 
kissd, wellconid home, and comforted his harmes, 
with askinge how hee fares : But hee dismaid,^ 

1—^ conceavd good newes and theareof comfort tooke ; 
w/iich soone to tell, shee to her mother rann, 
in hope of more good newes from C>xnibuscan. 

Now Titan, in thoriental, wrinckled wave, 
had filld his lavor, his gold browes to lave, 
& him invested in his arnica? grey, 
to promise calme windes and that azur<5 dale, 
y* light^s vp travilers to gett them gon, 
2 When 

3_3 ijj great hast comd to Courte, Whear*? shee in haste 
sawe what her ioid and quicklie made agaste : 
for soone shee found that Camball, her stowt brothers, 
had brought Algarsife, prisoner bownd, to her mothers, 
his head sore wounded. Wheareat backe shee start, 

4—4 ag havinge on him, though on hardist termes, 
that sisters pittie, for a brother yernes. 
Whome takinge from his horse in both her amies, 
shee tooke part of that woe w/iich love coufirmes, 
with askinge how hee faerd. Whoe, quite dismaid, 
^-^ om. in Ash. 

LANE. 



Can ace goes to her 
Mother, 



looks thro' her 



and finds that 
Camballo has 
brought l\ome Al- 
garsife wounded, 
and a prisoner. 



5 Ca. Jcindnes to 
her rebell 
brother.^ 



194 Cambuscans meeting with Wife Sf Daughter, [Pt. XL 



Algarsife says he 
wishes for Deatli. 



3 Q. TitlieU 
sternes to her 
rebeU ison^^ 



Q. Etlie] blesses 
and welcomes 
Camballo. 



'^'ioifiil meetinge'^ 

between Cam- 

buscan, 

and his Wife and 

Daugliter. 



througlie store of miseries in aunswer sayd, 32 

" I seeke for death e, yet death I cannott finde ; 
I die, yet live, yet am to death designd." 
land tho remembred, how his late-seene vision 
foretold, and wrapt him too, in this condition. ^ 36 

^Canac foorthwdth brought Camball to her mother, 
Whoe, on bothe knees, presentes to her his brother : 
saienge, ' his ffather now heere send 66' to her^ 
her conquerd rebell sonn, bound prisoner, 40 

^wMq}! prize hee deerlie bought, evn wdth owne liefe,^ 
yet praies her, doe her will on Algarsife.' 

^Camball shee blissd, sayeiige, ''vp, Camballo, 
thow art best wellcomm to mee, of ilke two.^ 44 

for thow com'st gladlie, of thine owne free will : 
^but hee, constraind, so mawlger must fulfill." 
whome, with sterne lookes, shee byd bee strictlie kept, 
so, turnd awaye : Wheareat Canacey wept. 48 

In the meane time, Cambuscan home was comm, 
amidd this busines, not yet fullie donn. 
but oh, what ioifuU meetinge then theare was 
betweene the kinge and Queene and faire Canac, 52 
and how thwhole court of knightes gann them comport 
in glorious well corns of festival sport,^ 



1—1 these 2 lines om. in Ash. 
2—2 tho brought shee Cambal to her angrie mother*?, 
and on his knees present<?.5 to her his brother, 
then told her that his ifather send^s to her, 
3—3 ^r^yi^^ i^ Ash. 
4—4 whose prize hee deerlie bought, evn with his lief^, 
s-^ the Queen, Camballo blissing*?, bid^s him rise, 

farr wellcomer then this his froward prize ; 
^— ^ hee, but constraind, so mawger must fullfill." 

With stern lookes, thearefor<;^, bidd<?s him strict bee kept ; 
tho from him turnd, Wheareat Canace wept. 

At th'instant in Cambuscans selfo was com, 
amid the busines of his lost-found sonn. 
but 6 1 then what hartes leapinge ioie theari? was 
between the king*? and Queene, and meeke Canace ! 
and how the knight<?s in court did them comport I 
with wellcoms glorious and festival sport, 
^—7 om. in Ash, 



Pt. XT.] Canace hegs for forgiveness for Algarsife. 195 

^men sooner male belive then time cann tell, 

sith liefe seemd rise from death, ill chaungd to well. 56 

Canac, on knees, did too Cambiiscan fall, canaee prays 

Cambuseaii to for- 

W ith beggmge grace for Algarsifes recall, give Aigarsife. 

w/i^'cli, graunt for daughters sake, if not for his, 

but if hee will for neithers quitt the misse, 60 

Yet for his fathers sake hee woold forgive^ (f. so) 

her miserable brother Algarsiue i^ 

2 thus addinge, " know, good father, that my mother 

standes yet out iust, sterne, feirce to my weake brother ; 

Whearefore, in you my sole trust is, deere father, 65 

and if yee helpe not now, wee dye togeather." 

The good kinge, att her suite, recalled him in, ^ ^canac ohtaineth 

' fimorfor her 

W hoe com, his browes wore th skarrs of shame and synn : rebel brother.^ 
pitchinge on knees, with countenaunce deiect, 69 Aigarsice fails 

fell prostrate, and in woefull silence wept, cambuscan, 

not daringe once lift vp his rewfull eies, vnowm^ nsgm 

for guilt the guiltie dauntes to vew the skies, 72 

and conscient fault thear wears owne willfull shame, 
wheare reason playd false to right iust infame. 
This while Canac wept fast as hee, hard bye,^ 

1—1 was sooner to belive then time cann tell, 

how deadlie morpheus wook^, ill turnd to well. 
Canace tho fore kinge Cambusc did fall, 

and beggd his grace for Algarsifes renstall, 

for his poore sisters sake, yf not for his ; 

but yf for neither will acquitt his misse, 

yet for his ffathers sake woold deign forgive 2 Algarsve 
2—3 the rather sith her most sevear<3 sterne mother 

(still iust and trewe) stand/?^ off from th eldest brothers, 

*' thearefore my sole trust is in you, sweet ifather ! 

and yf you helpe not now, wee die togeather*?." 
the kinge tho at her suite recalld him in, 

Whose pale lookes wore the brandes of shamefull sin ; 

for w/iich pight on his knees (his lidds deiect), 

and prostrate, full of woe, in silence wept, 

not daring)? vp to lift his guiltie eies, 

guilt daunting^ diepe, though no man theare it spies, 

much more when th' eye of iustice yt observes, 

with such fitt measure? as the guilt deserves. 
Canacee weeping^;, all the while, hard by, 
^—^ 01)1. 1)1 Ash. 



196 Algarsife confesses that he deserves Death, [^Pt, XL 

^and Camballs liddes scarce coold containe them drie. 76 
^Aig.mbmiS' Tlio, ill fewe wordes, Algarsif thus begunn, 



sion.^ 



" L6 heere, dread parentis, hee that was your sonn, 
wlioe hath no features left of that degree ^ 
• your grace, forme, education, gave to mee : 80 

Aij^arsife con- ^my faultcs havG so diepe died their guilt in graine, 

t'esses his faults, 

as 01 ray rume now doth nought remame, 
(sithe havinge forfeyted parental love) 
then that my portion your dire iustice prove. 84 

and that he de- I am uot worthic to bee called youres, 

but yeeld to th' sharpest swoord of bothe your powres." 
so downe he laye in final expectation 
of death e-deservinge-lawes-last-stroke : damnation ; 88 
wheareat the wailinge peoples drerie eye, 
sighd, pittied, sobbd theire Princes tragedie. 
cambuscan hands Cambuscau tlio drcwc Moiiiuo full keene, 
sword, and bids and gavc't to stemc-iust Ethelta his Queene, 92 

iti say e o . g^-^j^gg . u \^qqi^q^ WW i^ij^i, wlcfc, for I have donn." 
^Love ouereometh Eut lo, if iustice tume lovc, tccrcs must comm. 

"Husband" (quoth shee), ^^I lost you once, for him, 
elles had yee not binn lost, but him to winn :^ 96 

1—1 ne could Camballoes eies containe them drie, 
for love intier hath such compunction 
as makes annothers case to bee ones own. 

Then thus Algarsif 6^ (in sad plite) begun, 
•'L6, heere the wretch, dred Parent^^?, was your son, 
though hath no feature now in that degree, 
2—2 ^^2.. in Ash. 
3-3 for so diepe have my faulted dyed guilt in graine, 
as of my tragedie nought doth reniaine, 
but that my portion doe your iustice prove, 
for forfeiting*? your deer*? and kindest love : 
I thearefore am not worthie to bee youres, 
but yeild mee to the swoord of both yonr powres." 
tho down hee laid his head in expectation 
of the lawes letter (deathes axe, dire damnation). 

Cambuscan drawing^^ Morliuo fall keene, 
yt gave vp to iust Etheelta, the Queene, 
and said, "heere, kill him, wiefc^, for I have donn." 

but 6 ! whear<? iustice turnes to love, teeres com, 
"husband, 1 lost yee once," she swore, "for him, 
eWes had you not binn lost, but him to win, 

4—4 ^;;;,_ rlfl jish. 



all:^ 



Queen Ethel 
closes Algarsife's 
wounds with a 
touch of her 
sword. 



Pt. XL] Algarsife is forgiven. His wounds are heald, 197 

now, shoold I kill him too, I shooid leese twoe ; 

beshrewe my love, if iustice this tliinge doe." 

itho touchd his woundes with the platt of thilke 

swoord, 
w7i^ch closd all vp, and instantlie recurd.^ 100 

2 whearevppon vp hee start of contentation, 
w/i^'ch inwardlie reioisd this alteration, 
his teeres praisinge loves virtues manifold, 
able to save life lost, when nought elles coold. 104 

tho findes this instance verified in sense, 
repentance lesse secures then providence : 
and ofte repeates his late seene apparition, 
then verifienge his present condition. ^ 108 

^" What saiest thow, Canac, if I give him thee, 
as francklie as thy ffather gives him mee'?^ 
wilt thow and Camball bothe his suerties bee, 
4 that thow wilt (hencefoorth) him foorfch cominge see,^ 
so as hee well demeane him ever more^ 113 

on w/r/ch conditions I will cleere th'old^ skore." 

^" Dread Dame" (quoth shee), "because hee cries 
*peccauit,'^ 
Wee bothe will sue his special supplicauit, 116 

■^and stand his Pleages too, so as he stand, "^ 
bounde to vs bothe, in his own counterband." 

^Hee yeeldes, and cries : "God save the Kinge and 
Queene!"9 

tho Canac tooke him of them farme to feen, 120 

i^and with her ringe his skarrs shee cuerd, to stand ^^ 



She offers Iiim to 
Canace, if she and 
Cambalio will be 
sureties for liis 
good beliaviour. 



^ Al. receaved 
on conditions.^ 



Canace accepts 
Algarsife, 
and cures his 
scars. 



1—1 tho touchd his wound with the platt of the swoord, 
w/^ich instantlie closd vp and perfect cuerd. 
2—2 these 8 lines 07ri. in Ash. 
2—3 "but Canace, what saiest, yf I give him thee, 
as francke and free as th' ffather gives him mee ? 
that hence foorth yee will him foorth cominge see, 

6—6 "Bred Dame," quoth Cambal, "sith hee cries ' peccavit,' 
7—7 and stand his pledge too, so as hee will stand, 
^—8 am. in Ash. 
^—9 Hee grauntes, and cried, " God save the kinge & Queene ! '* 
10—10 and with her ringe cuerd all his skarres, to stand 



4—4 

5 the 



198 Camhuscan is honoii^rd hy Princes Sf Nobles. [Pt. XT. 

at tilt and turniament in Faerie Land. 

1 Cambnscan noold forget kind thanckes to give 

t' bis Queene, for gratious pardoninge Algarsive. 124 

^^0," quoth Canac, " my dreame is allmost out 1 " 
and musd how th' destanies brought thinges about. ^ ^ 
4 The fame wheareof, and other actions, flewe^ 
from coast to coast, as farr as marchantes drewe. 128 
^Whence all mens tonges him honord, though near 

sawe him ; 
no lodestone like to virtues powr to drawe men ;^ 
In so muche that some Princes, Barons, Knightes, 
to feede theire eies on him, them thither dightes, 132 
^not doubtinge but his known magnificence 
wo old quitt theire paines, though but with reverence. 

It followes next, by th' course of Cronikel, 
wee more of this kinges great exploites foorth tell,^ 136 
whoe never woold bee idle in that thinge 
w/i^'ch'^ touchd the point of roial managinge. 

^]N"ow then, sith Sol was clyminge Mars his Lion, 
he bode all gates bee sett wide openn by noon,^ 140 



Canace's 

3 Dreame com to 

pass.^ 



Cambuscan is 
honouvd far and 
wide. 



Princes and 
Nobles cotne to 
feast tbeir eyes 
on him. 



9 time ap-poinfed 
for the iousles is 
com.^ 



1—1 Cambuscan not neglecting^ thanckes to give 

t' his Queenes good grace for pardoning-? Algarsive, 

" Crod," said Canace, "now my dreame is out," 

and wondred how the heavns brings thinges about ; 

2 As7i. here inserts : — 

and how demonstrate by this act and scene, 
how fond pure folke presume on mercie t' leane, 
as yf stern iustice would renounce that right, 
that in her trewe, iust, serious lawe is wright ; 
w/i^ich sweares neare man, ne nation, did transgresse, 
but iustice wiselie punishd more or lesse. 

3__3 ^^^^ ^,^^ Asll. 

*— * the fame of wMoh Cambuscans actions flewe 

5—5 whearefore all men him honord, though near<? sawe him, 

for virtewe hath own lodestones powre to drawe men : 
^—^ as deeminge that his scene magnificence, 

woold paie enuif them with his reverence. 
Thaucthoritie of whose larg<? Cronickel 

requires more of this kinges exploit^s to tell, 
7 that 

^—^ thearefore, When Sol was climbing^ Mars his Lio^i, 

hiddes all the gates bee sett wide open b' high noon, 



Pt. XL] The glorious state of Camhuscan Sf Q. Ethel, 199 

1 saienge, ^ the Queene and hee woold then repaire ^ 
to see tlieir goodlie new-built tlieataire, 

2 that all they whoe gann noblie amies prof esse, 
mote, gainst this knowne dale, hitherwardes addresse/ 



Eut 6, how mote a weaklinge poete^ penn^ 145 

discribe, delineate, limn, in sound poem 
2 (in th' presence of the Classis Laureate), 
the glories of this kinge and Queene in state? 148 

the bounteous riches of theire courtlie traine ; 
the maiestie w/^^ch did all those sustaine ; 
the knowne magnificence of their expense \ 
the grand allowances w/wch issue thence ; 152 

the yoncker iollities of each brave knight ; 
the shininge bewties of each la die bright \^ 
the goodlie comportance, the sweet e demeanoure ; 
their constant loves, vnder the roial streamer ; 156 

^the virtuous prowesse of all them -which bide, 
and tooke their lodginges vp on th' kinges owne side;* 
The vanities of thother knightes and ladies ; 
^the fickell pompe of dilld vp-whifflinge babies ;^ 160 
theire false conceipt of honor honorlesse ; 
their vndeservd, their® vsurpd greatnesses ; 
their bewties, alF sophisticate to viewe 
^(vulgarlie vermilld to pretende as trewe) ;^ 164 

i_i jp^j, ^jjg^^ j.-^Q Queene and hee would then repaire 

2—2 to thend that all they whoe doe armes professe 

mote gainst the publick^ dale them thither adresse. 
But now, how male ami haggardes homelie penn, 

3—3 the glories of this kinge and Queene in state ? 
in presence of the classis Laureate, 
the shininge riches of theire Courtlie traine, 
the maiestie that doth theire port maintaine, 
thincomputible summes of theire expense, 
the grand allowances that yssewe thence, 
the gallantries of everie yonckster knight, 
the scatent bewties of each Ladie bright, 

*— * the noblie virtuous prowesse of them byde, 
and take vp lodginges on the kinges right side. 

^—^ the fickle pompe of phanticke, whifflinge babies, 
^ and ^ meere 

8—8 |-Q ^jj^' vulgar vermild to demaund as trewe, 



How can a weak- 
ling poet like 
poor John Lane 
describe Cambus- 
can's glories, 



(f. 30 b.) 



tlie knights' 
bravery, the 
Ladies' beauty. 



the prowess of the 
King's side ? 



How tell of the 
empty pretensions 



and painted dames 
of his opponents ? 



200 Cambascan ^ Q, Ethel ride to their Theatre, [Pt. XL 

their oratories, but to counterfeate ; 
^truitli mingled with smooth falshode, for excheate. 
now, how these divers bewties male bee sedd, 
Sidney's Arcadia Don Sidneies Ach-idea beeinge dead, 168 

being dead, we 

versers must do as is hard to hope : jet hardie they whoe saie 

best we may. , ^- ^ i^ ,^ , 

'• wee cann at liste ; wee others must as may. 
f^roiai theater The kiuge and Queene, most roialie attended, 

yinuhed.^ 

anon to theire newe theater discended, 172 

fore whome rode Heraultes bare, in rich cote armes,^ 
Bands of Trump- With checke-sw^olue trumpetters (begettinge stormes), 

eters answer one 

another. ^WMch chauutcd as theie went, dialoge wise, 

and breathlesse one expected thothers replies, 176 

till all the partes mett in one common choire, 

bases and trebles, seeminge t' spitt out fier, 

tyninge the welkinns bosome, lowe & hie, 

to confesse full of sparcklinge melodie. 180 

proclamation^ Then gauu aun herault make this proclamation,^ 

All Knights '* that all knightes, farr and neere,^ of everie nation, 

beinge trewe servauntes sworne to chivalrie, 
^and havinge ladies bewties, heere to trie*^ 184 

by speare, swoord, sheild, and goodhe amenance 
'^ (after the lore of Faerie Landes sommance), 

hither.' liave them safe conduct given, by th' kinge and Queene,*^ 

1—1 truith seeming^ mixt with falshod^ for excheate : 

and how thease bewteous Visors mote bee told, 

Don Sidneies Archidea beinge old, 

to dar^ is hard. Yet hardly hardie they, 

whoe vaunt they cann, What others must as maie. 

W/wch king^ and Queene, thear<? beings well attended, 

anon to theirs new Theater ascended : 

'fore whome learnd herauld6^9 rode in rich cote armes, 
2—2 Q.j^^^ j.j2^ Ash. 
3—3 whoe, as they marchd, rechaunted dialogewise, 

till, breathlesse, one staid thother with supplies, 

that all the partes mote meete in common quire, 

basses and treables spittings liquid fier, 

on welkins ample bosom, lowe and hie, 

in accent<?5 chargd with aierie melodie. 

What time ann herald made this proclamation, 
^ am. in Ash. ^ nye ^—^ intending^^ bewteous Ladies right^s to trie, 
7—7 should (of Old Faeries lore and sumonance) 

heere have safe conduct givn by king^ and Queene, 



described. 



Pt. XL] Camhuscafi s niagnijicent Theatre 8f Stores. 201 

^to trie in figlit, whose bewties better sheene ; 188 

and hee whoe dothe Canacies bewtie winn, The Pme is 

shall have his landes, and her to wif elie twinn. buscan's lands. 

and other ladies (if desert it beare) 

shall littlie bee adiudgd them for theire pheare. 192 

to morrows next, these trialles to beginn ; 

thus god Cambuscan save, and Ethel queen ! " 

So great weare th' peoples shootes, y* thearth it start^^,! Tiie people shout 
for hee that makes them sport shall have their harte6\ 
2 Cambuscan made small stale till hee had seene^ 197 ^stmvtuous mag- 
his theater, without dores* and within, triumph.^ 

^ whose glorious roomes, lightes, furnitures, rich hang- 

inge^, 
tapes try e, arras, counterpoint^^, beddes standinges, 200 Cambuscan's 
rich sadles, for wMch yonder haw tie strive and its contents 

(as wdiilome did th' forgettfull Algarsiue) ; 
plate, vessell, clothe, suites of accomptlesse store, 
with officers attendinge at the dore, 204 

and everie roome dressd, aierd, perfumd right sweete, 
for knightes and ladies, when th' assemblies meete ; 
with curious galleries for openn viewe, 
endlesselie roundinge, eastward westward drewe,^ 208 

^— ^ to trie, by fight, whose bewties better sheene : 

and hee that doth Canac (the bewteous) win, 

shall have her and her land^^, to wifelie twin. 
So thother Ladies (as desert male beare) 

shall fitlie have adiudgd to each theirs phear<?. 

and t' morrowe next, thease triak.§ to begin, 

so God Cambuscan save and Etheel th' Queen ! " 
the people shootingi? heereat, thearth back<? start^5, 
2—2 but thear^ the king^ staid not, till hee had scene 

2—^ am. in Ash. * dore 

6—5 of glorious roomes, light<?5, furnitures, rich hanginges, 

of arras, tapstrie, counterpoint^^, bedd standinges, 

rich sadles, for w^ich hawtie spirit^s strive, 

as whilom the forgetfull Algarsive ! 

plate, Vessell, Linnen, suites of comptles store, 

with Officers attending^ at each dore : 

and everie roome vpdressd, perfumd, aierd sweet, 

for knighte^s and Ladies, gainst th'assemblies meet ; 

the wondrous galleries for open viewe, 

of various roomes, from theastwtird westward drcwe, 



202 X. Bimthoto comes io Cambuscans Tourney. [Pt. XL 



Cainbuscan's 
grand Theatre. 



^K. Bunthoto & 

Theodoraes 

arival.^ 



Bunthoto, King 
of India and 
Palestine, and 
his daughter 
Theodora, come 
to congratulate 
Cambusean, 



and see who'll 
win Canace. 



^beginninge at tli' altar of truithes image, 

to iustices altar in equipage : 

but from theast gate downe to tbe westerne gate 

bow spatious, loiige, brode, faire th'court gann dilate, 

for troopes, or single combattante^, to fight, 213 

mote easelie pose beeresaie, but not sigbt. 

This donn, a noise of trumpettes from with out, 
gave notice of a neere arivinge Eow^te 216 

of noble states, lorded, knightes, or what they bee : 
at whome the people out rann to gaze and see.^ 
Whose heraultes-cote-armes gave to signifye 
the kinge of Ind and Palestine was nye ; 220 

Bunthoto, wdth his daughter Theodore, 
of bewtie excellent, and sweete decore, 
^Who came in love and ioie t' congratulate 
Cambuscans noble victories, of late^ 224 

obtaind o're Fregiley and Algarsif^, 
the fame wheareof, sithe yt amazd beliefe, 
they^ faine woold see with Ethelta the queen e, 
^and what these honorable ioustes woold beene ; 228 
yea, whoe woold winn faire Canac to his prize, 
of whome th'ad heard, now faine woold see with eies. 

Cambusean soone, and Queene Ethelta rose,^ 



1—1 at th'altar ginninge at truithes faire image, 
to Justice altar of like equipag;?. 
so from th'east gate vnto the western gate, 
how spacious, loiig^, brod*?, and the Courtis dilate ! 
for troopes, and single combattantes, to fight, 
mote sooner pose heeresaie then present sight. 

This donn, new noise of Trumpettes, from without, 
gave notice of a new aprochinge rowt, 
of noblist states, lovdes, knight6^§, Or what they bee, 
on whome the peopl out rann to gaze and see : 

2—2 Q^yi^ ^^ Asll. 

3—3 whoe came, this loves daie, to congratulate 
for kinge Cambuscans Victories of late 
* som 
s— 5 and of thease lowd proclaimed iowstes to deeme, 
observinge whoe winnes Canacee to prize ; 
of whome theire eares woold fill theire hungrie eies. 
Cambusean quicklie, and Etheelta, rose 



lodj?d on Cam- 
buscau's riglit 
side. 



Pt. XL] The Knights loho come to Cmiihuscan s jousts, 203 

^aiid on ward es, with theire traine, to meete them 
goes, 232 

wlieare they with goodliest complementer comported, 
cheerfull and ioious count enaiince consorted. ^ 

^Bunthoto kissd queene Ethel and Canac, ^ entervew of ye 

and then did king^? Cambuscan fast embrace. 236 

Cambuscan the faire Theodora kisst ; (f. 3i) 

Algarsifs favor was, hee bussd her fiste. 
queene Ethel also Theodora kissd, 
and both the daughters neither either missd.^ 240 

these ^ roial straungers weare to lodginges brought, King Buntiioto 

^with wellcoms hartier then maie bee thought,^ Tiieodoraare 

and placd in th' midle ward, on th' lunges right side, 
^fitt for theire ease to eye, and to bee eyd. 244 

"Within a while more trumpettes gann resound, "^ stnmngers com 

.. to the combat J 

that more kmghtes bmn arivd m Faerie ground, 
for whonie large space was made by th' marshallers, 
gardantes, and tipp staves, w/^^ch the people stears. 

Tho entred, first, a trumpetter ycladd 249 ^i. trumpeter.^ 

in manie winges, flame colord, staringe madd, 
about whose head these letters boldlie shine, 
which, his ensigne repeates thus, " A famin." 252 

l!^ext came a woman with distended hears, ^'i.ahermiu.'^ 

W/wch wriglen as th'orse trottes and vp arears,*^ 

1—1 to meet them, and with all theirs traine on goes, 
of countenance so ioifullie supported, 
as with commutual complements^ comported : 

2—2 these 6 lines om. in Ash. ^—^ om, in Ash. 

* w^ich 5—^ with gracious interviewes, as mote bee thought, 
^—6 fitt for their*? ease to skrie, and bee discried. 

This while more Trumpetters are hard resownd, 
that more knightss wears arivd on Faerie ground, 
for whome largs roome was made by th' marshalers 
and gardant tippstaves, whoe them much besterrs. 

Of thease the leadings Trumpetter was clad 
in winges flame colord, actings starings mad, 
about whose turbin letters, graven in, 
repeated on his Ensign "A famin." 

Next came a woman of distented haiers, 
^\hlG\\ wrigled as the trottings horse foorth beares, 
7—'' o))i. 1)1 Ash, s— 8 o?}i. in Ash, o— ^^ om. in Ash, 



204 A Blue Knight conies to Cambuscans Tourney. [Pt. XI. 

^speckd snakes, checkred lampernes, w/wch turninge 

round, 
out sprange at length, and in againe vp wound : 256 
pallid her habite, wrinckled, large, and longe, 
and, ridinge, sange division on th' plaine songe. 
^s.dhcriptwnof The uext that entred was a mightie knight 

tlieJirstTcnight 

biew.^ of limbes and posture, and no lesse of spright,i 260 

Whose bever and his vmbier closd vp weare, 
to passe vnknowne, as after did appeare : 
^his armor blewe, some clowdes wore, and some starrs, 
chaungeablie sorted, w/itch him boldlie carrs ; 264 

his bases and caparison like eied, 

His horse's plume and his great horse of manie colors pied, 

of all colours save ii-ii 

white. his tossant plume, w/^^ch sublime th his head, 

all colors wore, save white, that mote bee read :^ 268 

iaies, pecockes, parrett^s fethers, ostridges, 

^ With all new daintie dies w/uch gallantes dresse, 

full of devices, danglinge vp newe fangled, 

as nyce invention idlie dightes them spangled, 272 

that neither eie ne witt suche fancies sawe, 

car figurd yet, but in newe fasshions la we, 

With toies and glasses ^allienge in the wine,^ 



speckd snakes and checkred Lamproies (twyning^ rownd), 
w/iich sooner sprang^ at length, then vp wear<? wound : 
pale was her visage?, hahit*? wrinckle(i-long6^ 
division descanting.? on the plaine song<?. 

Next came a more bigg, then a goodlie knight, 
of limbes and posture, no lesse then of spright, 

2—2 0711. in Ash. 
his armor azure, some clowd6^s wore and starres, 
w/iich, blowings chaungeablie, him boldlie carrs : 
his bases and caparison like stied, 
his frendent horse of manie colors pied, 
his elevated plume on tossant head, 
all colors vanned, save white, wMch mote bee read, 
with all new volant dies of gallant dresse, 
full of devices, dangling*?, as new fangled, 
as nice invention fanticklie them spangled : 
for never eie, ne witt, more fancies sawe, 
configurd to old Paris fickle La we, 
with toyinge glasses, playing^' with the wine. 



Pt.XL] A Green Knight comes to Camhusccuis Toiirney. 205 

iturninge and altringe nimblie with the time, 276 

he comes : whose horse fomed the seas invndation, The Blue Knight's 

foaming steed. 

as th' rider felt him on owne exaltation ; 

w/?^ch putt(?s so hravelie off, ciirveddinge hie, 

as drewe vppon him everie wondringe eye ; 280 

then onward trotter saunce stopp, or curteous stay, 

not deigninge ladies congees or obay ; 

but trotteA^ beyonde the bounder of th' trophies twaine, 

right so is foUowd by all of his traine.^ 284 

ISText came a lustie knight, in armes as greene ^i- secoyiaicmgu 

greene."^ 

^as okenn leaves, or verdant f elides pulleine,^ 

Whose plume, caparisone, brave bases eake, 

^challengd the greenes of the greenest leeke ; 288 

his pranncinge-dauncinge horse of dapled gray, His dappled grey 

disdaind to make the ground or aier their staye ; 

his beaver ope shewd a smoothe beardlesse face,'^ 

'Which, publishd boldnes rashe for ioUiest grace ; 292 

greene was his lance, ne ladies baisance caerd, 

^calHnge "Sir Equestrillo," foorth hee faerd.^ 

Xext came a stowt couragious vibrant knight, ^5- tMrcncmght 

oreng tawny. '^ 

■^larglie proportiond, and as large of might, 296 

his armor plaine, caparisone, and bases 

of orenge tawnie; none this knight out faces ;'^ 

1—1 as nimblie turnd, as altringe with the time, 

born foorth, as on the seaes rash invndation, 

was vanned, as on own howses exaltacion, 

whear*? prickings on most bold curved^s so hie, 

as drewe vnto him each admiring^ eye : 

so statelie trott^s, saunce stopp, or curteous staie 

(not deigning(9 Ladies congiewes once obay), 

as vrgd beyond the bownd<3S and trophies twaine, 

Yet bravelie f ollowd was by all his trayne. 2—2 ^^^^^ ,/^^ .[ gj^^ 

^—^ as Oken leaves, when verdant feild<?s pulleene, 
^— ^ the greenes challengd of the greenest leek^ ; 

on praw[ii]cing^, dawncing^ horse, dydappled grey, 

disdaind to make the ground or aier his stay : 

his beaver ope denouncd a beardles face, 
5—5 higi^t Equestrillo, calling^?, foorth hee faerd. ^"-^ am. in Ash. 

7__7 pi-oportiond all as strong! ie as of might, 

whose armor, plume, caparison, and bases 

of Orenge tawnie, none this knight outfaces ; 



206 A maskt Woman comes to the Tournament, [Pt. XI, 



The Orange- 
tawny Knight, 
with auburn 
beard 



2 6. a lady of the 
str a lingers com- 
panie,^ 
[Viderea] 



57. fourth knight 
chaimgeable.^ 



^his aburne beard gann in his eye declare, 
bee knewe owne strength, that none mote it compare ; 
as though all ladies ought first bowe to him, 301 

nor held him bound to bewtie leese or winn ; 
so lovd him selfe, and durst that love maintaine, 
w/^^ch leavinge one, mote chaunge or chouse eake 
twaine ; 304 

his nervous horse of sorrell shininge^ hyde, [i ms. shiminge] 
as smale respect hee vsed, as after glyde : 
Sir Togantillo cleaped was more proved, 
then of them which him knowes, trusted or loved. 308 

ISText came a woman (mask'd) right wondrous gay, 
in crimson velvetes, gold-pearl-brodred raie,^ 
Which att her necke, vntill her dugges dependinge, 
Wore the ritch rubie of all eies attendinge : 312 

^ other six iewelW^ bove her browes vpbore, 
^W/^^ch beggd all suitors not to scape her dore; 
her stead farr redder then the tawnie baye, 
and onwarde fared, knowinge too well the way, 316 

Close att her heeles prickd foorth a doughtie knight, 
Whose armor, plumes, caparisone weare dight^ 
of colors white, redd, yellow, blacke commixt, 
^havinge a rowlinge eye, right seldom fixt :^ 320 

1—1 his aburn beard did in his eie declare, 

hee knewe his strength such as none mote compare : 

nor holdes him bownd to bewtie leese or win ; 

but lookes all Ladies first ought bowe to him, 

hee, but so loving^, as durst that maintaine, 

that leaving6^ one, mote chowse yet other twaine : 

his nervous horse of sorrell shining^? hide, 

diffusing^ small respect, did after glid^ ; 

Sir Togantillo cleapinge, more approved, 

then of him knowings best, trusted or loved. 
Next came a masked wooman, wondrous gaie, 

in crimson velvett, gold-pearles-brodered ray, 
2—2 ^„^_ i^ j\ gji^ 3—3 gix other iewelk.9 

4—* to begg/? all suitors not to scape her dore ; 

her Steed farr redder then a sorell bay ; 

fares onward boldly, weeting<? best her way. 

Close at whose heeles foorth prickd a doubty knight, 

whose armor, plume, caparison, wear<? dight 
om. in Ash. ^—^ and had a rowlinge eye, scarce ever lixt ; 



Pt. XL] 2 KnigUs 8f 2 Girls come to the Jousts. 207 

a kniglit (in deede) that stoode at all essaies, 

^and wondrous feirce, sithe aiminge his owne waies;^ (f.sib.) 

skewd was his horse, of nianie colors chaunginge, [7, 8, 9 the 3 

Treacherous 

^w/z^'ch lovd in manie pastures to bee ranginge. 324 Generals.] 

Sir Quadrimal men cleapd him, sith he leand 
on owne sweete appetites after he weand. 

Next came a knight with face in bever hidd, ^ s, fivtn knigu 

redd. ^ 

which beinge downe, of none it mote be spidd ; 328 

his horse was of a sangine color redd,^ 

so weare his flasshinge plumes aloft his head : 

his armor redd, so his caparison, 

^and redd his launce; is after th' rest ygonn> 332 

J^ext came a knight, whose face was also hydd, 59. sixt knight 

vppon a pale horse, meagerlie bestridd, 
in armor, plumes, caparisone all pale, 
^his launce and swoord eake pale, thretninge fatale : 336 
this hee spurrd onwardd^, praw[n]cinge to the rest, 
to kill him whoe grauntes not his purpose best. 

Then rampd twoe bowncinge gearles, scarce, fresh or 710. ^gaiiant 

o • ^ ladies of the 

laire, straungersJ 

but as frolicke lustiehead coines a paire 340 Two Bouncing 

of suche as, in the point of emulation, 
stande tipptoa highe for taliste vindication ; 
wee said not best, ffor that weare to decide^ 

1—1 and verie feirce in ayming*;? his owne waies ; 
2—2 as lovd in manie pastures to bee ranginge. 

Sir Quadrumal men cleapd him. sith hee leand 

on own sweet appetites, and after weand. 
Next came a knight, his fac<9 in bever hid, 

that beinge down, hee mote of none bee spid, 

whose horse was of a sang win colord redd, ^—s ^^^^ i^ ^^/^^ 

^—4 his lance eake redd ; after the rest is gon. 5— 5 07ii, in Ash. 

6—^ lance, swoord, wan visage, threttninge still fatale, 

soone onward trotter to overtake the rest, 

and him to kill, grauntes not his pinion best. 

Next rampd twoe bowncinge Gearles, scarce fresh or faire, 

vnlesse that lustiehead gan coyne a paire 

of such as, in the point of emulation, 

rose instepp hie for tallest vindication ; 

wee said not best, for so weare to decide 
7—7 a')fi,^ i^ ji^/i^ 



208 The Bouncing Girls, 8f their Chambermaids. [Ft. XL 



Tlie bouncing 
girls, false 
Dtieltra, and 
Cromatia. 



211, 12. ^?{>oe 

wayting maides,^ 

Frelissa and 
Reglata, lioman 
ladies, 



captured by- 
pirates, and sold 
as Chambermaids 
to tlie 2 bad 
Bouncing Girls. 



^what mote anon by virtuous swoordes bee tryed; 344 
th'one false Dueltra (by ait soundinge trewe), 
thother Cromatia (of no blussbinge he we), 
yborne greek e Cynickes : so as yonder knightes, 
Whoe marchen on the waves of owne delightes. 348 

The last of these laggd a distressed paire, 
Frelissa faire, Eeglata debonaire/ 
bothe Eomane ladies of the familie 
of th'ancient senators Patricij, 352 

^ whose fortunes hard (6 whoe maie fate withstande f) 
bound them to sea, to comm to Faerie Lande, 
to see the soile wise poete-s caelebrates, 
ear since old Merlins time : cruel fates !^ 356 

that it is lost<?, and these, in seekinge yt, 
^for Pyrates on theire shipp and them gann hitt ; 
so came they captives, and to Greece transported, 
sold, and by these badd mistresses extorted : 360 

for they, as chamberm aides, bin forcd to dresse 
these errand pusselle^^, w/u'ch cann but transgresse ; 
Yet these mote sett their ruffes and clothes in print, 
Yea, keepe them so : elle<§ dames will looke a squint. 364 
Nathlesse, while these twoe discreete maides bee theare,^ 

1—1 what foWes anon by swoord*?^ edge to bee tried ; 
thone false Dueltra, sowding^ by art trewe, 
Cromatia thother, Of no blushing^ hewe ; 
both w/iich, Greek Cynickes borne, so yonder knight^.s, 
both marchings on the waves of selfe delighted. 

Last, after all, laggd a distressed paire, 
Frelissa sweeti?, Reglata debonaire, 
2—2 ovi. in Ash. 

3—3 whose fortunes hard wear*? (none maie fate with stand) ; 
for, bownd to sea, to seeke old Faerie Land, 
that happie soile thold Poet^^ celebrate 
ear since wise Merlins time : cruel fate ! 

4—4 when Pyrates tooke theire shipp, and all to splitt, 
tho fell they captives, and to Greece transported, 
whear*? th' are by thease odd misstresses extorted, 
and as theire chamberm aid<?5 constraind to dresse 
thease errant puzzell<?5, whoe cann but transgresse ; 
Yet thease theirs ruffes must aett, and clothes in print, 
and keepe them so, eiles dames will looke a squint. 
Nathles, while thease twoe maides discreet are thear<9, 



Pfc. XL] The beauty of Frelissa and Reglate, 209 

^Dueltra and Croniatia seenie bothe faire : The beauty of 

Frelissa and 

^v/i^ch weare not, but for Freliss. and Eeglate,^ Regiate, the maids 

. • 1 11 T 1 o/^o of the Bouncing 

wl'ioe bringe in tewne what yond slnttes discordate. 368 Giris, 
2 twice round they trott the circklinge theatere, 
like challengers, w/r^'ch all theire topp sailes reare. 

But this last paire, w/? /ch lagged all behine, ^ entermew hy the 

. g, ^ combatantes.'^ 

by bewties lorce drewe to them all mens eyen, 372 

for Camball and Binato oftenn swore, is greatly admired 

by Camballo and 

twoe fairer paragons near sawe before, Biitato. 

then Freliss and Regiate, whome well they vye, 

ne once dismissd, while distance lettes them prie ; 376 

naie, till they weare gonn foorth and taen their In, 

for th' morrowe next, When all these ioustes beginn. 

All these weare oppositlie lodgd to th' kinges* 
on th' left side, wheare they fell to banckettinges : 380 Festivities are 

, held till evening. 

till Phebus from his nerie coche deceedes 

to walke, and coole by eveninges dewe his steedes : 

and blusshinge welkin fell with stowtes to playe 

at novum, for the morrowes golden daie.^ 384 

1—1 Dueltra and Cromatia both seeme fair*?, 

Yet are not but for Freliss and Regiate, 
2—2 Whoe heer^ thrice rowud gann trott the Theaters, 

start ladings challengers, in mayn carrieri?, 
Howbeet, this last pair<? laggings aU behine, 

by bewties force drewe on them all menes eyen, 

Camballs, Binatoes, specialie, whoe swore, 

near(9 sawe twoe fairer paragons of yor<?, 

then Freliss and Reglatc^ ; whome so long<? eye 

as note dismisse, while distance leiies them pry, 

nor till they weare gonn thence and taen theire In, 

gainst the next morn, that thease concerted begin. 

W/itch last troope lodgd opposite to the kinge, 

on the left syde ; wheare fell to banckettinge 

and Jovial glee, before deserved meede.9. 

W/wch Phoebus marckinge, rode his coach and steedes 

to sea ward, and to Thetis cellar went ; 

whole hymnes of stowtes plaudinge the mirriment ; 

for that the morrowe faire woold shine as well, 

but whose faire day 'twould bee, they could not tell. 
3—^ ovh. in Ash. 



LANE. 



210 The moTni7ig of the Tourney for Canace. [Pt. XII. 



Algarsife wins 
Theodora. 



Canace is won by 
Akafir. 



2 braue straun- 
gers com againat 

The morning of 
the Tourney. 



CambuRcan calls 
up liis Knights at 
dawn. 



6 7f. Camh. colors 
advauiLcedfi 



(f.32) 



9^. C. colors 

white? 



Canto Duodecimo, 

Algarsif Theodora winns ; Cambell 

obtaines Freliss ; Binate Eeglata getter ; 

Akafir beares Canac ; slaine is Horbell, &c.i 
Canac the Falcon and Tercelets love reknettea. 

^Longe wakes the love-sicke, and th' ambitious, 

scarce dreddinge anie action perilous ; 

for, ear Aurora raught her watchet pall, 

these iollie gallanted for their horses call,^ 4 

to challenge gainst Canacy, for their own, 

^to prove theirs fairer, and bove thother Ho wen ; 

in so muche that bright Titan mote not staye,^ 

to light *his torche vp to theire risinge daye. 8 

^But nobliste kinge Cambuscan, in dewe time 
first vp, foorth calks his knightes by Dawninges prime, 
to waite him to the feild. they quicklie comm, 
ear' th' trumpette6' " bootie cella" with the sonn j^ 
before whome weare those bleedings colors borne 
'^whiGh blasd his cote (more honord as more worne) 
at Fregiley. JNTow vaunced weare thease on hie,'^ 
on the kinges side for all his knightes to eye ; 
^trumpettes and heraultes ranckes lodd on the waye ; 
Cambuscan then vpon Ducello gaye,'^ 



12 



16 



^ &c. ojji. in Ash. ^~- am. in Ash, 

2—^ Longe wake the lovesick and ambitious, 
not feaving<? aiiie action perilous ; 
so, ear Aurora dond her biushiugi? pall, 
thease iollie trunchard^^s for theirs horses call, 

4—4 whome they farr fairer hold, and woold make known : 
Whearto they bidd bright Titan not to stale, 

^— ^ But noblist Cambuscan, in his dewe time, 

first vp, first calld his knight«9,§ by dawninges prime, 
to waite him to the feild ; Whoe thither is com, 
ear Trumpettes "bootie cella," Or the sonn : 
6— •^ ouh. in Ash. 

7—7 w/wch blasond his cote armor, ever worn 
at Fregiley : so heere advauncd on hie, 

8—8 The trumpetters and herald^s lodd the waie, 
and theare Cambuscan, on Ducello gaie, 

9—9 ^^^;,^ ^;^ jlgJi^ 



Pt. XII.] The Colours of Camhuscan and his Sons, 211 
^came armd in th' purest-chaced-polishd gold, cambuscan wears 

7'i iiT«iii rv/\ So)^^ armour, and 

Oil whtch no rust, moth, canker, coold laie nold ; 20 

niaintaind Saint Georges embleam on his brest, 

WJiich had binn lent out, now recalld t' invest : 

vppon his helme a plume of white and redd rides his Horse 

of Brass. His 

maiestifyed his pace, as Duceil tredd ; 24 colours are white. 

white was his lance, all white adowne to foote ; 

his skarff, like colord, hunge a downe the boote. 

these weare of Ethels and Canacies colors, 

Which, with the wind, predominantlie hovers. 28 

Algarsife, after him, on trampler baye, ^ai^. colors white 

vanned his redd lannce, elle^ white was his araye,^ 
and as the kinge was dight, So is^ hee dight : 
^so theare rides on a verie goodlie knight. , 32 

ISText came Camballo on a courser white, ^cambaiioes 

Whose armes and colors dazled through much light 
of the sonns glitter, cast vppon the Steele, 
as ofte as hee his horse touchd with his heele : '* 36 

and looke what's ffathers armes, and colors weare, 
^such did hee beare, and such him out gan steare.*^ 

Binato, laste (though first by forward spright) isinatQ colors aii 

^ rode on a black e horse, yet his armor bright, 40 

his plumes, lance, skarfE, caparison, all white,^ 

1—^ full armd in purest-perfeot-chaced gold 

(on w/nch no rust, moth, cancker mote lay hold), 
gann blason Georges embleam on his bvest, 
earst lent out now recalld him self<9 t' invest : 
whose lance went white and all <d\\es to the foot<?, 
like colord plumes and skarfes adown the boot, 
for tbease wear*? Etheels and Canacees colors, 
for base or feild, not reckonings anie others. 

Algarsifs, next him, on a trampler bay, 
a redd launce vanned, Q\\es white was all his ray, 
2—2 om. in Ash. ^ was 

4—4 that so mote foUowe him, a goodly knight. 
Camballo next, came on a courser white, 
wbose armes and colors dazled theirs own light, 
with the sonns glitter cast vppon the Steele, 

as oft as touchd his horse with steddie heele ; ^—^ om, in Ash. 

^—^ hee the same beares, and such him out doe bear<9. 

'^—'^ om. i7i Ash. 
^—^ rode on a blacks horse, yet his armor white, 

P 3 



2 altars, sacri- 



Cam bus can and 
his sons make 
offering's at tlie 
altars of Truth 
and Justice. 



u 



48 



212 J.Yie 6 Judges of the Tourney for Canace. [Pt. XII. 

1 that surelie gracd and vauncd a valient knight : 
yet gentil, lovinge, meeke, right trewe, and iiiste 
(his grand siers liverie), word and deede so niuste. 

Theire circkle went within the trophies twaine^ 
of truith and iustice, not without the plaine ; 
vppon whose altars th'offred sweete ensence, 
milke, honie, olives, doves, biirnt^ frankencense : 
^obaisauncinge with praiers that Jehoue 
woold guide theire swoorde^^^ \i\ gaininge theire trewe 
love. 

The statues congees^ made as aunsweringe, 
^much like as^ once befell to Pirrus kinge 52 

in Argos, when ann orackles behestes 
■^fullfilld this Prophecie : that when twoe beastes, 
a beare and lion, hee shoold see to fight/ 
then shoold Deathes final stroke putt out his light ; 56 
^Wheare, pon ann housetopp, those beastes (made of 

stone ^) 
fell, one gainst thother : Pirrus sawe alP done. 

Theare sate six Judges, bove them, Ethel th' queene, 
and by^^ her kinge Bunthoto, richlie seene. 60 

12 but Canacye, and Theodore the faire,!^ 
sate openlie on hie, the sweetest paire 
13 that ever breathd, ffor bothe theire handes and eies 
delt truith to meekenes : bothe gann angel ize.^^ 64 

14 White was Cancies robe, as driven snowe,!"^ 



^0 Judges of 
desert.^o 



Canace and 
Theodora sit 
hi<?li up. 



15 Canac all in 
white. ^^ 



1—1 of ]oving<3 gentil grac<5, trewe, lust, perdij, 
in word and deed ; his Grand siers Jiverie. 

Whose circuit went within the trophies twaine, 
2—2 om. 'm Ash. ^ mirr 

'^— '^ lowe baysancingc, that praiers to Jehove, 
would gwide thera right 

» congiewes ^-^ like as yt 

7-7 foretold that when hee should behold twoe beast^.9, 

a beard and Lion, each with either fight, 
8—8 vvhear<9 on ann howsetopp those twoe beast(?.9 of stone, 
9 yi 10—10 f)^^^^ i^i jish. 11 with 

12-12 but Theodore and yong^ Canace the faire, 

13—13 those 2 lines oni. in Ash. 
14-u Canacees robe was white as winters sno, ^'-^^ ovi. in Ash. 



Pfc. XIL] The dress of Canace and Theodora. 213 

full of the largest gatlieringes, bove^ belowe, canace is drest 

in white, with a 

witli^ golden girdell bowt her niidle bore,^ golden girdle, 

that formd her person perfect of decore. 68 

but on her shoulders wore a moste rich pall and a rich paii 

needle-wrou<?ht 

of needle worck, made^ by her owne hande6' all, with cambuscan's 

in silke and gould, of livelie colord hewe, 

^vfhioh. well distinguish could, to knowe the trewe ; 72 

and all her fathers actions livelie wrote, 

twice donn sith by her hand too on her cote : 

wheareby shee vowd still to bee known, for whie 1 

loves handle worcke convoies to niaiestie.^ 76 

^Tho her twelve mistresses lodd her the waye, ^uer nmis- 

and shee by congees witnessd her obaie, 
notinge her ladie virgins state perfection, 
falles not till fallen of indulgent defection.^ 80 

Sweete^ Theodoraes robe was maiden blusshe, Thandora's robe 

is maiden-blush 

suche as faire^-clarett gillifiowres off brussh, in hue. 

When liquid scyntilles of heavns dewe theie weare,^ 
10 and the crabb white-redd garlandes freshe do the 
reare ; 84 

her Canac settes above her on th' right hand, 
good manner gracd suche straungers in this land. 

Algarsif now ann humble suitor fell, '^^ Aiaarsifes for- 

warchiesM 

that he might first with yond huge Giant dell, 88 

vowinge his hate was so resolvd on him,io 

1 a ^ wore ^ wrote 

4—4 w/wch could distingwish well to knowe the trewe, 
and all her fathers greats act<9s livelie wrote, 
twice donn, sith by her also on her cote ; 
wheareby shee would bee known for his : for thie 
her hand^s worke cronicled his maiestie. 
^— ^ these 4 Imes cmi. in Ash. 
6-^ om. in Ash, "^ fresh ^ sweet ^ bear^ 

10—10 that mornes poesies fresh endowe this pair^ : 

whome Canace bove her sett^^s, on the riglit hand, 
good manners gracing^ strangers in this Land. 

Algarsif d tho ann humble suiter fell, 
that hee mote first with yond grand Giant dell, 
and swore his hart to bee so sett at him, 
11—11 ^/;^^ ifi Asli, 



214 The Horse of Brass is lent to Algarsife, [Pt. XII. 



Cambuscan wants 
to fight the Giant 
Horbello, for 
Algarsife, 



(f. 82 b.) 



but is persuaded 
not to. 



3 seruice on y^ 
brazen horse.^ 
Cambuscan lends 
Algarsife his 
Horse of Brass. 



^ as scarcelie mote containe to runn him in. 

"Il^o, no," Cambuscan sayd, ^^nliow art not able^ 
to stirr so vast a bodie in the sadle : 92 

2 for thoughe Canacies ringe thie hnrtes hath cuered, 
yet thow to this conflict art not envrd. 
boie, th'art vnskillfull : Tie kill him for thee ; 
but if I misse, as I did, doe for mee." 96 

A 

" ffather, then " (quoth humblest Algarsife) 
'^ honor mee thus farr, that I spend e my lief 6^ 
before yee shall once more your selfe endaunger ; 
lett your Algarsife canvasse with this straunger, 100 
to gaine some honor to my credite loste, 
it yernes my soule to see this Giante boste." 

Then spake the Judges, that it weare most fitt 103 
that mongst his peeres Cambuscan downe shoold sytt, 
and not adventer him in these essaies, 
but rather lett's younge sonnes spurr for the praise. 

Cambuscan tho lent his good horse Ducello 
to prince Algarsife t' cope with yond proud f ello ; 1 08 
but first yt hee demonstrates, that vnlesse 
hee ride this hor^ o nee'l comm in like distresse,^ 



1—1 as scarcelie could containe from runing^ in. 

"Not so " Cambuscan said, ^'for th' art not able 
2—2 no, though my Queenes swoordes plattside hath tiiee cuerd : 
for th' art not to this conflict yet envrd, 
nor art thow skilld. boy, Tie him kill for thee, 
yf as I did for thee, doe thow for mee ! " 

" Praie, ffather," beggd the resolut*? Algarsife, 
" thus farr me honor, that I spend my lief*? 
before, once more, you your own seUe endanger ; 
6 lett mee, b' your example, cope this stranger, 
to gaine some credit to mine honor lost ; 
ha ! how yt yirnes mee t' see the monster bost ! " 

The Judges heering6^ this, vouchd yt more fitt 
Cambuscan shoold among^ his peeres goe sitt, 
then to adventer aye thease known essaies, 
but rather lett his yonge sonnes spurr for praise. 

In hYieie, Cambuscan lent his horse Ducello 
to Algarsife, to cope with anie ffello ; 
but first demonstrates to him, that vnlesse 
hee rid<? this horse, hee'l com in like distresse 
^—3 om. in Ash. 



Pt. XIL] Algarsife fghh the Giant Horhello. 215 

^ as earst bee-fell : Right tho bee taught him wheare cambuscan show 

Algiivsife how to 

and how to trill the twaye pinnes in his eare, 112 inanagethe 

and how to beare the raignes, &c., w/wch doinge well, 
bee shoold bee victor, weare it gainst Horbell, &c. 

Algarsife mounter Ducello, that bold horse, ^Horbei&Aig. 

on whome him reddies soone, for th' first occourse. 116 

The trumpett(S5 sound the charg*? : And lo, they flye 
in niayne carrier, bothes lances pointes to trie. 
Theie meete.amidd : bothe hastinge on warden faire, Aigarsife ami 

. Horbello sliiver 

so that bothe brokenn splitters lie we in th aier. 120 their spears. 

About they vier, and to theire swoordes they fell, then fight with 
but theare was suche a knightlie interdell, 
as never feircer classhinge, crasshinge, dasshinge, 
better commended a continual thrasshinge,i 124 

Aigarsife makinge pastime for the boyes, 

in"^ hewinge, scattringe eake the Giantes toies ; each hewing tiie 

* While Horbells wandringe mace so paid that paines, 
as of te had felld Aigarsife, had not th' raignes 128 

him held, whoe held them fast, so yarckd vp right 
middst virtues cell confidentlie to fight,^ 
^Wheare vrginge necke to necke, and brest to brest, 
bothes bloes gave thrustes, which pawzd ne stoode on 
rest. 5 132 

1—1 that earst hee fell ; gainst wldch, hee taught him wheare 

and how to trill the twoe pinnes in his ear<9, 

and how to beare the raignes, vjIUoh rulinge well, 

hee should ore all bee victer, and Orbell. 

Thus taught, Algarsif mountes the brazen horse, 

and raignd, him reddies for the first occourse, 

wheareto hee felt, by holdings well the bridle, 

that possible start ffooles thought vnpossible. 

The Trumpeter sownd the charge, they startl and flie, 

in mayue carriers, both lance pointe.s* couchd to trie, 

meetinge amid both levell beare tliem faire, 

and both theire crasshinge splitters flewe in thaiere ; 

about they vierd, and to theire swoordes befell, 

to publish such a knightlie interdell, 

as never swifter clashinge, swashinge, dashinge, 

commended better a continual threshinge ; 
2—2 ovi. in Ash. ^ by ^-~^ these 4 lines am. in Ash. 

^—^ but fightinge neerer home, evn brest to brest, 

vsd bloes and thrustes, which staid not vppon rest. 



216 Alijarsife conquers the Giant Horhello, [Pt. XI L 



2 Oanac praieth 2 
for victory for 
Aigavsife. 



^afeircfihovseA 



^Alg. victorie,^ 

Horbello is 
vanquisht by 
Algarsife. 



Equestrillo and 
Camballo fight. 



^But all the time these deadlie food men strove, 
Canac on bended knees and handes vp hove, 
With teerefull cheekes, fore heavn's all viewinge eye, 
prayd for her elder brothers victorie.^ 136 

^so soone the Giantes armor, and his maile 
opd manie mowthes, att wA^'ch their losse did raile ; 
the wonndcs confessinge, that th'expense of blood 
disfleshd and him disspelfd, thoughe stowt he stoode. 
Ducello bangd Horbelloees horse with heeles, 141 

bites and rebites him, ore and or'e hee reeles. 
nay, tho Algarsife thrnst thronghe Horbells throte, 
i^aie more, atth' wrest foorthwith his hand oif smote : 
his wild horse feelinge the raignes loose, thence rann, 
and threw his Eider downe, a vanquisd man. ' 1 46 

The iudges this pronouncd for victorie, 
wheareat the trumpettes clangen mirrelie, 148 

with greater ioie, for whie*? It now was known 
that this was grand Horbell, one of his ff oen ; ^ 
^all men admiringe chaunce, sith so yt was 
Algarsif65 iust revenge came well to passe. ^ 152 

ISText Equestrillo to revenge this^ ffrend, 
^spurrd rashlie or'e the greene ; w/^ich Camball kend, 
and as the trnmpettes bodd fiewe to the charge,^ 



1-— 1 these 4 lines om. in Ash. "^—^ om. in Ash. 

3—*^ but in the Gmntes armor and his maile 

made manie mowthes, whoe yet as storm es did raile, 
till at those windowes heawd out streames of blood, 
streames that the Giant causd to chawe the cood. 
tho him Algarsifc; thrust adown the throte, 
and att the wrest his false right hand off smote, 
his reignes off hewing6^ ; Whence his horse out rann, 
and flung^ the rider down, a vanquishd man ; 
■whome feirce Ducello shooke, vntill hee cried, 
and gave vp lief6^§ last gaspe, quite mortified : 

the Judges yt pronouncing/? victorie, 
wheareof the Trumpet(5s clangd in strain es full hie, 
lowd mirth and ioie, for that it now was known, 
y* this was Grand Orbello overthrown. 

4—* om. in Ash. ^-~^ oni. i)i Ash. 

^"^ these 2 li7ies om. in Ash. "^ his 

^-s spurrd forward on the greene, whome Camball kend, 
and as the Trumpett^?^ bid, flewe to the charge, 



Pt. XII.] Camhallo heats Eqicestrillo and Togantillo. 217 

1 ffoes mett tlieire foes, pointes pointed eitliers targe, Cambaiio fights 

"but til' bufE on Equestrillo paid siiclie force 157 

as all most forcd his necke beyond his horse. 

the lances broke, theire angrie blades came nyer 

to beate from bo the helmes fier-brandes sparkes of fyer, 

for termes of jDeace had theare brochd this condition, and vanquishes 

Equestrillo. 

to fight, and still to fight, saiince intermission. 162 

at last Cambaiio him betooke a wound, ^ camhaiis first 

vietorie.^ 

Wheareof fell downe (vnhorsd) in deadlie s wound. 164 

'WJiich Togantillo, storminge, soone did enter Togantiiio then 

. attacks Cambaiio, 

theare to revenge his brothers missadventer ; 

rann att couragious Camball with his speare, 

■wJiich stowtlie on his Targe hee off did beare, 168 

and loppd his tossant plumes ; that downe a downe 

they fell to take vp now and then a wowne. 

longe, bloodie, cruell, breathlesse was theire fighte, 

wheare force and skill wanted nor art ne might, 172 

Will aye aboundinge t' bringe to eithers bent, 

and eithers will was eithers will t' prevent : 

at last resolvd Camball so rann him in, but is mortally 

as Togantilloes liefe blood out did spinn,^ 176 

1—1 foes meetings ffoes, pointes pointings eithers targe ; 
the buif on Equestrillo drave such force, 
as allmost forcd him quite beeyond his horse : 
both lances broke, theirs angrie blades drewe njere, 
to beate out of bothes helmettes sparGkes of fyere, 
no termes of peace kept, but on this condicion, 
to fight, and fight it out, saunce intermission ; 
till Camball gave him home a fa tale wownd, 
whearewith, vnhorsd, fell in a deadly swownd. 

Whioh Togantillo, storming6', did reenter, 
soone to revenge his brothers missadventer, 
and rann at Camball with a fatal speare, 
v/hioh on his Targ^ hee stowtlie Off did beare, 
yea, loppd his tossant plume, w/iich fallings down, 
had but to take vp in ites place a wown : 
the both maintayning*? as most opposite, 
by force and skill, wJiich want not art ne might, 
to bringe bothes w'lWes down, mawger wilies stiff bent, 
though eithers will strove either to dirempt. 
but, as fate woold, Cambaiio rann him in, 
wheare Togantilloes liefe blood out did spin, 
2—2 out. in Ash. 



218 M/uestrillo and Togantillo both die, [Pt. XTL 

2 aambaih second ^ but 16 (strauiipje chauiice) poll's swownino^e brother 

victorie.^ \ o / r o 

wheare (wounded bothe) tb'one thus on thotlier 

calW; vz., 
^' Brother, our times bee come, wee bothe muste die, 
to him who well winns from vs victorie." 180 

tho, ioininge handes gann thus to Cambali saye : 
^honorabi sepui- " Sir knight, jhave noblie vanquishd vs this dale ; 

tui 'e to enimiesfi t i 

our lives, hopes, honors, and our amies are youres, 
take them, but give vs knightlie sepultures. 184 

Your force in vs dothe willinglie contend 
to honor vie tor ie in fFoe or fFrend ; 
youres is the conquest now by faire desert." 
Tiie brothers thus beiuge rcadie deathward to depart, 188 

Eqaestrillo and t«i tt-ttt 

Togantiiio kiss ])othe brothers kissd, and bidd adiewe. At this 



Cambali alightes, and att one woeful! kisse^ 



and die. 

(f. 83.) 

Cambaiio draws drewe bothe theire breathes into his f rendlie breste, 
in'to^hi"rcifest?^ and made theire funeralles his livinge chest : 192 

^leavinge ann instance, that all f rendlie foes 

shall mix theire mirth with griefe ear hence they goes, 

and so to tender others overthrowne, 

as if like fortune made the case his owne.^ 196 

^The Judge pronouncd for Camballs victorie,^ 

and trumpette^ clangor told*^ it to the skie. 
^Binatesvicfori/.s ^But now Binate gaiust Quadrumal outran,^ 

1—1 and tlieare vppon his swowning^; brother fa\]es, 

whoe, both death wounded, thone thus thother csMes : 

" Our times are comd, that both wee brothers dye, 
to him that nobler winnes our Victorie." 
tho, io5aiing(9 hand^.<?, thus to Cambali gann say: 
'• faire Sir ! yhave knightlie vanquishd vs this day, 
our lives, armes, honors, all wee have, are youres, 
which take, but deign vs frendlie sepultures, 
now yours is Victorie by dewe desert." 
then beings readie deathward to depart, 
both brothers bid farewell. Cambali at this 
touchd with remorse, aUghtes, & at one kisse, 
^— ^ cmi. in Ash. '^~^ om. in Ash. *~* these 4 lines om. in Ash. 

6_5 rpi^g Judges gave yt Camballs victorie, ^ swore 

7—'^ Then out gainst Quadrimal Binato rann, 
s—s oni, in Ash. 



who has the 
'*: discretion to' 
peeld.^ 



Pt. XIL] Qaadramal yields to Binato, 219 

at trumpeter blast to figlit it man to man ; 200 Bmato fights 

^ whose horses, speares, armes, bodies, crassh togeather 

like th'ocean tide, and land flooded stormie weather, 

and soone theire blades, like flaialks of the forge, 

droppd lierworkes, & on theire brave plumes disgorge 

what empte^ the liefe in ventinge vital blood, 205 

thears no lesse to bee lookd in deadlie food. 

naie, other resolution theare is none 5^ 

then that one of these twaine muste goe from home. 208 

In short,2 Binatoes vantage could him killd, 

^ Which Quadrumal perceavinge, faire did yeeld :^ 

^grauntinge, that they whoe fight to death doe err, 

when nillinge yeeld to trewe knightes prisoner.^ 212 

^At that, the trumpettes and the Judges bothe 

resounded the victories of powrf ull trothe. 

And now, these twoe vnknown knightes pricken out, nwoe vmud chai- 
for whiel not one with them (as yet) had fought, 216 
which, causd them dare bigg wordes, and lowdlie 

swagger, [ 

lawghinge, they wanted worke ; swears | by no begger. 
This bread impatience in the weerie knightes, 

Whearefore against them bothe Algarsi|e dightes. 220 Aigarsife is not 
" No, no, not now" (quoth all the Judges tho),^ them. 

1—^ whose horses, speares, and bodies clashd togeather, 
Uke th'ocean tid<? and land flood<95 fowlest wether<9 ; 
whear*? soone theirs swoord^'5, like ffiyales of the forge, 
bright ffier workes flunge, and on theirs plumes disgorge? 
what emptes the liefe and Yentes the vital blood, 
for never lesse was hopd in deadly food : 
so other resolution theare was none, 
2 fine, 2—^ w/iich Quadrumal confessing^?, him did yeild ; 

4—4 om,. i)h Ash. ^-^ these 2 Imes am. 'm Ash. 

^—^ for w/iich the Judges and the Trumpett6^5 both 
resownd the Victorie of powrfull troth. 

but then, the twoe vnknown knight/?5 pricked out. 
for that, as yet, not one with them had fought, 
wZt-^ch mad6' them darr bigge wordes and lowdlie swagger, 
Yea, vaunt they wanted worke (thrasonicke bragger). 

this stirrd impacience in the weerie knightes, 
Aigarsife thearefore gainst them both him dightes ; 
but everie of the Judges praid him " no, 
*^— 7 am. i)i Ash. 



220 Canace and Tlieodora cltcdlengd to sing. [Pt. XIL 

•^'' least yee bee weerie all, as X^gges may goe." 

Cambuscan, tho woold fought gainst botlie at oiicGj 
but til' Judges vsiiige stronge dissuasions, 224 

his roiai patience cravd a litle while j 
The 2 Unknown Wheareat these Braggadochioes thus gann smile, vz., 

Knights challenge 

Canace and " ffairc siirs, sith yoz^r side hath smale store of knighte^^, 

Tlieodora to a , i • i 

Singing Trial Ictt vs, this other waye, reioise our sprightes : 228 

Bouncing Girls, wce have twoe Ladics, w7^^ch, with your trim paire, 
dare vendicate to singe, whearefore they dare;^ 
Dueltra and Cromatia hight bin they, 
2 will bringe vs victorie from your tine tway."^ 232 

^tho, near 'fore geese did the most ielleous ganders 
WTinckle more fethered browes, then these challangcrs.^ 
^canacaun- Cauac wox augric at this challenge prowd 

challenge ^(as loth t' Compare her face to th' beetle browd), 236 

ne brookd her name shoold bable in suche mowthes, 
as are the knowne-horse faire of all vntrowthes ;^ 
^yet beckeninge silence of the peoples crowd. 
The challenge is her congewe softe prefacd her musicke lowd, 240 

for shee was qualified, and Theodore,^ 
in musickes theorem and practicke lore ; 
'^and theareto tewnd foorthwith her angelle^^ voice, 
^Theodore taiceth swcete Thcodore makiugc like heavnlie noise. 244 

Can. partfi 

^'Dueltra" (quoth Canac), '^aunswer this note;"^ 

1—1 sith beeing^ weerie, as the legges mote goe." 

tho would Cambuscan fought with both at once, 
but th' Judges vsd yet more dissuasions, 
to staie his royal pacience yet a while. 

Wheareat thease Braggadoceans thus gan smile : 
" fEaire Sirrs ! because your side growes bare of knightt^6'j 
lett vs this leasur^ time delight our spright<?5, 
wee havings Ladies twaine, wAich with yo?/r paire 
shall vendicate to sing<? whearfor<? yee dare ; 
2—2 ^j]| victorie asport from your false twaie." 

3—3 tJiese 2 lines om. in Ash. ^— * om. in Ash. 

^—^ these 3 lines om. in Ash. 
6—6 Yet silence cravd amidd the multitude, , 

for being*? qualefled, and Theodore, 
^— ^ shee foorthwith tewnd vp her Angelick*? voice ; 
which Theodore accented, with heavnlie noise. 

tho Canace to Dueltt; said, " Tewn this note," ^—^ om. in Ash. 



Pt. XII.] Trial behoeen the Ladies Sf the 2 Girls. 221 



1 withall, a Large, in vnisone shee smote. 

Dueltra gainste lier did a Second singe,^ ^beihimmusic- 

w7z.Mi is a discorde and false descantinge. 248 

^"Yah!" (qnoth. Canac), ^^yee broke your name The 2 Bouncing 

Girls both 

rignt well, 
ell65 how mote wee, in yee your falshode spell T'^ 

Dueltra then (to mende her former fault) 251 

^songe out a seaunth, w^^ch as a second's naught;* 
yet SAVore her false cordes trewe, Canacies false, 
^for whoe knoes not, but that truith lyers gallesl^ 

Then Theodore a iiuth sunge, and ann eighth, 
^Cromatia sunge a Fourth and seunth evn streight, 256 sing discords, 
and vauntes hers sweete & trewe (how harshe soever), 
ne woold blushe at twoe fiuthes or eightes togeather ; 
w/wch causd th whole audience laugh, & stopp theire and are langht at 

by tlie audience. 

eares, 
for tis ann hell brail wheare fowle discord fleares. 260 

Ha, but their maides Frelissa, with Eeglate, 
prompted theire Dames gainst false descantes relate, i aeaeant yt know 

ith to reconcile.'^ 

by causinge them to smge oft sharpe, ofte flatt, 

& w/th discreete restes, false cordes, trewe to chatt ; 264 

and so to reconcile imperfect cordes,^ 

as notes cromaticke dulcet tewnes afoordes. 



1—1 w/wch was a larg^ in Vnisone well smote. 

Wheareto Dueltra did a second sing*?, 
2—2 om. ill Ash. 
3—3 a Yah 1 " said Canace, " you brooke yo?/?' name too well, 

yee havings in your falsbod^ yt to spell." 
4— * a seavnth sung^, w/wch is as a Second naught, 
5—5 fQp nought so much as truith sly Hers g^Wes. 
c-6 Cromatia twanged a Fourth, Sixt, Seaunth, for right ; 

hers vauntinge sweet and trewe, how harsh soever ; 

not blushing^? at twoe eightes, ne Fiuthes, togeather; 

w7/ich so mad(? thaudience loath, laugh, stopp theirs eares, 

as when ann hell brail catterbrawles in quieres. 
But then theirs maides, Frelissa. with Eeglat^, 

theire Dames so prompt gainst discord*?^ false elat^?, 

as causd them oft sing*? flatt and often sharpe, 

and oft by rest^.S' made false cords sweet as tharpe : 

wAich did so reconcile imperfect cordis, 
7—7 om, in Ash, 



^a brealce 
dawnce/'- 



(f. S3 b.) 
catterbrall.^ 

The 2 Bouncing 
Girls make a 
dreadful squull. 



222 Sinr/inff by the Ladies, Cambmcan, 8fc. [Pt. XII. 

1 wlieareby Dueltra and Cromatia gaind 

to singe some notes sweete, though them selves but 

feignd ; 268 

for solid musicke, simple, perfect, sweete, 
these (without helpe) can neither keepe ne meete. 
Wittnesse theire masked Ladie (theare so gaye), 
w/zzch pulld Eeglate and Freliss quite awaye ; 272 

but, then to heere hell kennelles-dlsmall-hussh, 
Dueltra with Cromatia made (saunce blussh) 
helpe catte^, diOgges, howles, apes, to expresse theire 

noise, 
winch was as well hissd out, by all the boies ; 276 

Yet to that masked Ladie, those discordes 
more pleasinge dogg brawles weare, then sweetest 

cordes. 

Cambuscan thearfore bidden Freliss, Eeglate, 

singe with Canac and Theodore wheare they sate,^ 280 

on the knowne plaine songe, miserere. Then 

4 the kinge himselfe, with his owne singinge men, 

Algarsif, Camball, and Binato, sunge 

so glorious musickes as no ear, penn, tonge^ 284 

Wheareby Dueltra and Cromatia obtaind 

to singe notes sweet and trewe, but eUes them feignd ; 

yet solid musicke, w/iich is perfect sweet, 

thease, without aid, can never keepe ne meete. 

To trie w/nch point vppon these masked twaie, 
Frelissa and Ueglate weare pulld awaie. 
but then to heere theire dismal rymes eftsoone, 
of the dull poetes Gervis and Noyoune ! 
perfumd with genepers exhaled tewnes, 
mote putto silence all Acteons hownes : 

w/iich swore, whome Jove marckes tewnelesse w' ought to fly 
as close commercers with iniquitie. 

Yet to thease masked Ladies theire discordes, 
more pleasinge weare then trewe and sweetest cordes : 
for selfe love cowlicke,9 whole own maladie, 
and deigns false relish right, though rages a wrie. 

Cambuscan, tho, bid Freliss and Reglate 
singe with Canace and Theodore, as they sate, 

^—2 f)ffi^ j^fi Ash. ^ om. in Ash. 

the kinge him selfe, with thease his singinge men, 
Algarsife, Camball, and Binate, out sunge 
so glorious musicke as no eare, voice, tunge 



Cambuscan orders 
their maids, 
Frelissa and 
Eeglate, to sing 
with Canace, &c. 



and in favour 
of Canace and 
Tlieodora. 



Pt. XIL] Canace 8f' Theodora loin the Shiging Trial, 223 

^taught sweeter aiers, reportinge deeper art, cambuscan and 

. . , Ins men sing 

lie goodlier pomtes sett into everie part, beautifully. 

with, relislies and trewe divisions, wronglit, 

by descanted lore, to make good of the nought ; 288 

w/izch chirm e, this choir e of birdes, so lovelie close, 

As th' Judges heeringe, satisfied arose, The. Judges decide 

._ . aj^ainst the two 

saienge, '^Dueltra, with Oromatia, j^ou, Boundng Giris, 

in bothe youre purposes binn found vntrew," 292 

and swore, " who raves in musicke.s opposition, 

wears natures caracter of dire perdition ; 

yet not nature, ne ought of her or th' vse, 

bin selfelie false or badd, but by th' abvse." 296 

"whearefore w' adiudge Canac and Theodore ^canades trniui 

obtaynetk:^ 

in niusicke t' have orecom??? your discord es rore ; 
yet wee, by proclamation, passport give you, 
to gauge with yonder mates, with whome yee live 
now." 300 

Most furious wox the knightes at theire disgrace, The 2 unknown 

... Kniglits vow 

and vowd revenge : w/z^ch (to mamtame m place) revenge. 

claimd theires for right, but Canac to be wrange. 

But 16, thear's heard annother trumpettes clange, 304 ^ Aimfir in iiacic 

colov ^ 

for fame had told these ioustes so farr abrode,i 

1—^ could warble sweeter aiers, ne dieper art ; 
of good lie pomtes sett into everie part, 
with relishes and apt divisions wrought, 
by descant6\s lore to reconcile the naught, 
as that the Choire (brought to a perfect close) 
so satisfied the Judges as they rose : 
and sayd. " Dueltra, with Oromatia, you, 
in both yonr purposes are fownd vntrewe : 
Yet not own natures self^, nor hers, ne thvse, 
are in own rootes false, but by yo^ir abvse : 
wee thearefore iudg^? Canac<3 and Theodore 
in niusick<? t' have orecom your discordes rore : 
Yet wee by proclamation passport give, 
that yee pack^ with yond mates, with whome yee live." 

The strange knightes furious wox at this disgrace, 
and vowd revenge, yea would maintaine in place, 
theire Dames are right, Canacee to bee vvronge, 
yt vaun tinge, till annother Trum petes songe 
denouncd that ffame so blazd his coyle abrode, 
-~^ om. in Ash. 2— 3 ^^^^ jyi Ash. 



224 Akafir attach the 2 TJnlmown KnigUs. [Pt. XII. 



Alcafir, 



on a black horsi 
and armd iii 
black. 



attacks the 2 
Unknown 
Kniglits, one 
after the other, 



lotting fly at 
tliem. 



^as hitherward Sir Akafir is rode^ 

to trie adventures for that bewteous Dame, 

w/i/cli^ dauntes lier lienge foes with reverend name ; 

vppon a blacke horse, nitent as the iett, 309 

^in armor (all as blacke) corns fairelie sett, 

With lance, plume, bases blacke as sable night 

wears when sh'athe mortify ed the flaringe light. 312 

iN'ow, viewinge yond twoe knightes on th' left hand 

side, 
his owne bold trumpet bode him thither ride, 
so foorthe hee spurrd, as fast as Boreas hies 
to cleere the miste, and sweepe the clowdie skies. 316 
The first hee mett h' orethrewe alonge the ground, 
so owd him nought, save what hee paid in wound ; 
Whome passinge, hee vppon that other rann, 
in ])ittie that hee should theare idle stan ; 320 

about whose helmes his swoord coniurd such Aveather, 
as now the paire mote daunce without a feather. 
Againe, home at them bothe, and through them bothe, 



too and againe, hee exercisd his wrothe : 
and lettinge flye, hee tooke and paid againe, 
what none in armor saftie found certaine ; 
nor was the matter putto furder dales, 
sithe praesent paiment future paiment paies. 
and so hee plied them for his litle time, 
as the last liver sweares, "all wilbee mine."^ 

that Aqiiaphir to runn his turn in rode, ^ that 

armd darck<? as night, Who sayd, " O yee, well mett 1 " 

these odd knight<?s, viewing^ on the left hand syd^, 

rann at them both, to ask^; yf they durst byd^ ? 

Of whome the first hee orethrewe on the ground, 

not meaning(9 other questions to propound, 

then foorth at this, then at that other rann," 

because hee should not idlie talking^ stan : 

wheare bowt their<3 hellmettes coniurd vp such weather, 

as quicklie mad<? them dawnce without a ffether*?, 

home at them vowching^, back^, and through them both, 

th^ire malice to reward with trewe-iust wroth, 

w/i-ich gave such dole, and in so litle time, 

as the last liver swore, " all wilbee mine." 



324 



328 



Pt. XII.] Ahafir wins the Touney^ and Canace. 225 

^At length, these twoe knightes (not knowinge his 

name) 

belivd hee was some right cocke of the game, 332 Akafir's oppon- 

ents run away. 
wA^ch, by ofte runninge thense, woold winn the daye : 

but these, praeventinge that, rami bothe awaye. ^ Akajirs victorie 

ower tti'oe 

in trothe, 'tis all daie seene (if well puttoo't), straungers.^ 

obnoxious thrette^ binn but th' length of theire foote. 

Wheareat th' whole Theater laught, till it droope, 337 The spectators 



laugh. 



& of tenn thowsand whoopes made one great whoope, 

^in honor of the knightes of Faerie Lande, * Faerie latid 

. Til 1TTTO Icnightes haue the 

whose prowesse lovd gamste all the world to bande."* vietoHe.^ 

^ Quoth Quadrumal, ^'16, still how ill they thrivd 341 
(slaine, tane, or fledd), whoe gainst Canacy strivd."^ 
^whearevppon trumpett^^^? all, bothe farr & nye. The trumpets 

sound. 

sounded Canacies truith and victorie. 344 

This causd both kinges and Ethel th'queene, in haste, 

to give these knightes dewe honors, with repast. 

Bunthoto gave kind Theodore to wif<3,*^ "fo%re ioifwii 

ii-c n rs 'i^ctrriages.'^ 

to the now- well deservmge Algarsiie, 348 Aigarsife gets 

-J., - T^ii' Theodora, with 

with dowr, liid, Arab, lucia, ralestme, india,judiea,&c., 

to bee annexd to th'ebrews of theire line. 

^ Cambuscan also gave him th'brasen horse and tiie Horse of 

and reignes, whearby hee did Horbello force.^ 352 

9 And to Canac hee plighted Akafir,^ Akafirgets 

1—1 these 8 lines om. i7i Ash. and thefoUomng inserted: — 
they, fearing^ hee theirs honor should requiir, 
rann quite through fier and water to the meyr^, 
scarce looking^ back^ at those them liissd with lothing^, 
for summoning^ their<9 eares and eyes to nothings, 
2—2 ^„,,^ y^^ Ash. 
3—3 to thonor of the l^mghies of Faerie Land, 

against whose prooff none durst in combat stand ; 

^— * om. in Ash. ^—^ these 2 lines om: in Ash» 

6—6 Whearefore all mens lowd suffrag<? (farr and nye) 
sownded Canacees trew-iust Victorie. 

W/wch donn, the king^ and Queene deferrd no hast 
to give those knightes dewe honor with repast. 
And, first, Bunthoto gave Theodore to wief^, 
'^—'^ om. in Ash. ^—^ these 2 lines om. in Ash. 

^—9 Cambuscan gave Canace to Aquaphir, 
LANE. Q 



226 Canace iveds Ahafii\ The Weddbig-Mask. [Pt. XII. 



Canaoe, lier city, 
and the sword 
Morlivo. 



Camballo % 
Trelissa, 



and Binato has 

Reghita. 



(f. 34) 



The Theatre is 
K5)un round by 
water. 



T)ie 4 Couples are 
married, and a 
Mask is performd. 

A t'entaur on a 
bull; 



a Lady jewelld 
and maskt; 



with dowr Fregilia, calld Caiiacamor, 
^and Morliuo Ms swoord, to save or kill 
in Tartarie, accordinge vnto skill. ^ ^ 356 

^Then to Camba]l hee gave Frelissa faire, 
with Serra province, to them and theire heire.^ 

Eut on Binato Eeglata bestowd, 
with Ixiopiaes dukedome, well'* endowd. 360 

^ These matches made,^ the waters vnderground 
^soddainelie bore th' whole theater around : 
for it supported was on sj)indelles stand, 
prr,cepard of old, and fetchd from Faerie Lande. 364 
and tho vpp spowted pipes of sweete rose water, 
w/^^'ch, fallinge on the people, stirrd theire laughter, 
sent from the gusshinge frendshipp of those welles, 
whear th' Faerie nymphes haunten their cristall 
celle6\ 368 

The nuptialks ended (as old stories saye), 
this maske att night came in, to marr theire play : 
a naked-blindfold Centaure, on a bull, 
winged, with bowe and arroes, sharp and dull ; 372 
A ladie maskd, w/wch wore seavn iewelles riche,*^ 
of all the pretious stones that cost mote sitch, 



1—1 and Morlivo his swoord, to save and kill, 
as wisdom reasonablie knowes to will, 

2 Aslh. here inserts : — 

not wincking6^ sinners twice, least custom make 
ann harder cure, whoe so yt vndertake. 
and on Canace bestowd his brazen horse, 
shee havings learnt to raign and rule his force. 

3—3 On Camball hee bestowd Frelissa fair^, 

with Serraes province to them and theirs heire. 
4 pich ^—^ Which M^eddinges past, 

^— ^ bore this Theaters bull din ges faire arownd, 

w7wch on strongs spindles founded, tirme did stand, 

as yt of old was built in Faerie Land : 

whence ever spowten vp the cristall well^.?, 

in which the Faerie nymphes loves trivmphe spell^s. 

Yet hate, which aie doth for occasion stay, 
at night brought in this mask<9 to marr the playt? : 
a naked blind boie, on a winged Bull, 
came with a boawe and arroes sharp and dull. 
A Ladie maskd, that wore seavn iewel^s rich, 



Pt. XII.] Videreqimpisond. 2 false knights branded. 227 

^a silverne bowle, brim full of gold in hand, 

a j)urple-silkenn gowne her person spannd ; 376 

Twoe knightes like mummers, cladd in different ^mummers 

masked.'^ 

suites 
of redd and pale, needinge no drum ne Unites, ^ 2 Knights drestas 

or "burninge torch, exceptinge one behind, 
3 not much vnlike the blinde leadinge the blind. 380 
The boisteous Centaure, att his first entraunce,^ 
brake halfe his homes off, by a blundringe chaunce, 
^v7i^ch causd the nobles call more light ^ in hall, 
to viewe these mummers formes habitual. 384 

^But Canac glasse findinge Cupid disguizd, The maskt Lndy 

is ViiiovBU. 

pluckd off his maske, Tho all weare well advisd : 

Videria then was known (that cursed witch), 

from whome Cambuscan gann all Jewells twitche, 388 

and flunge them downe, her silver and her gold : 

tho bode the Queane to bee fast laid in hold, siie is put in 

and swore shee shoold bee burned att a stake, 

yea, thoughe (they said) once more sh'escape did make. 

The men weare Gnartolite and Leifurco, 393 Tiie 2 Knights 

. are Gnartolite and 

both handled m theire kinder ear th are lett goe ;'^ Leifm-co. 

for theie weare ire-marckd with ann M and D, They are branded. 

<5so turnd a longe for theire twoe Dames to see.^ 396 

1—1 with silvern bowle brim full of gold in hand, 
and in a purple Velvet gown yspand, 

Twoe knightes (her mum??iers), clad in different suites 
of redd and pale ; not having*? Drum ne fluites, 

3—3 iji manner of the blindd!^ leading<^ the blind<? : 

wheareby the Centaure, at his entraunce, 

4 Wghies 

s— ^ Tho Canace findinge Cupid theare disgwizd, 

pluckd off his maske ; w/ach donn, all weare advizd, 

for then viderea was well known (that witch), 

whome the kinge strippd of all her ieweles rich, 

and flunge down all her silver trash and gold, 

then bid the Strumpet bee laid fast in hold. 

yea, swore shee should bee burned at a stake ; 

a while escapd, though rann out, her to take, 
the men weare Gnartolite, Leyfurco too, 

both handled in theire kinder', eare thence lett goe ; 
^—^ then turnd a longe for theire deere Dames to see. 

Q 2 



228 The Judges of the Tourney get gold Belts. [Pi. X IL 



The traitor 
Quidavis hangs 
himself. 



^loue ending in 
peace.^ 



* itidges hon- 
ored.'^ 



Cambnscan gives 
the Tourney- 
Judges golden 
belts. 



5 a fathers coun- 
sel to 7ds chil' 
dren.^ 



Tbeire torclibearer was Quidauis the trait er, 
^wlioe, as hee hopd no pardon, so the falter^ 
leapd on the Centaures backe, and gott away, 
2 but hiinge him selfe (for shame and guilt), they saye. 

L6, now the night gan give them all good rest, 401 
the rather, sith all ffoes binn slaine or sperste ; 
sorrowes (hartes griefe) are gonn, which liefe distroies ; 
solace (mindes mirthe) succeeds, that kindleth ioies : 
and now loves paires maie frolicke Lovers gaine, 405 
wheare love exvlts most, pairinge twaiue by twaine. 

Then said the Judges to the kinges and Queen e, 
" Dredd powres, these six daies w' have emploied beene 
in iudginge these concertes, by trewe beheste ; 409 

Now, sith victorious peace bringes all to rest, 
bee pleasd yee deigne vs leave, this seaventh day, 
that w^ee, as yee, depart our several way." 412 

'^ Yee shall" (quod the good kinge)," too morrowe part, 
and fare to your affaires with all our hart : " 
so gave them goldenn beltes of starrie straines, 
in mind of this good time, and for theire paines. 416 

ISText, as old stories tell, when Titan shoen, 
the kinges and Queene calld all theire children to them, 
to whose behoofe Cambuscan thus gann sale : 

^^ Wheare ffathers ende, children 'gin fathers play; 



"^-1 whoe sith no pardon liopd for such a falter, 
2-2 but hiinge him self<3 for guilts? in Tartaray^. 

This past, neave them assurd of peace and rest, 
theire virtewes now having*? all ffoes supprest, 
that loving6^ paires mote frolicke lovers gaine, 
love most exv[]]ting^ wheare? yt paires by twaine. 

and tho the Judges of the kinge and Queen, 
cravd leave, sith six daies th' ad emploied heen 
in trying^ thease concert^.9, mote that faire dale 
goe rest, and on the morrowe each his waie. 

" Goe," said the kiug^, " and for your truith accept 
thease azure heltes, with golden studd^s ydeckt." 

So now the sonn, w/iloh earst went down in red, 
all gloriousl}^ arose enamiled : 
the kingd tho to his children thus gan hj^mn, 

"Wheare parent^^,9 end, children have to begin, 
-3 <mi. in As7i. *"* om. in Ash. ^~^ om. iti Ash, 



Pt. XIL] Cambiiscans Counsel to Ids Children. 229 



Yee, daughter deere, and yee, my sonns arowe, 421 

^my minde, by my examples, well doe knowe; 

eake dilligence foretold, my meaninge was, 

to make yee capable of my owne place, 424 

my honors to sustaine, and dignitie, 

and all to love truitli, iustice to applie. 

I sale no more, but charge yee bee the same, 

yee (by caracter) seeme to signe to fame, 428 

whose scale enfeoffed your deede the same to bee, 

that eloquence well heeres what cannott see. 

to dale am I to Canacelia rydinge,^ 

wheare I will have yee all at last abidinge.'^ 432 

2 so leaves them to theire cures, and bidden farewell, 

all blissinge all, while none ioyes woes could tell.^ 

^Tho heavens Lampe saunce freckle at adiewe, 
bode gratious congees-lowe to ^N'eptune blewe, 436 

and with kind hart-sighes, blusshinge bewteouslye, 
gann this faire vniuerse all glorify e.^ 

^ After these kinges and Queene had left the 
place ,^ 
Camball became a suitor to Canac, 440 

that shee (of office) woold attonement make 
^betwine her falcon and her falsed make.^ 

1—1 doe best my mind by my examples knowe, 
how that of zelous Love my meaiiiug^ was 
to make yee capable of my roial place, 
mine honor to sustaine, and dignitie, 
yf all to love, truith, iustice yee applie : 
the w/iich, though still have to convert, and must^, 
yet in none are, but the design bee iust. 
now then, needes sale no more ; but bee the same 
yee beare in character to sign to fame : 
whose scale maintaines your deed the same to bee, 
that without act no eloquence maie see. 
this daie am I to Canacelia ridingt*, 

2—2 niean time, goe gett yee to your cures, farewell," 
them blissinge, till ioies saddest teeres distill, 
2—3 these 4 lines oiii. in A&h. and the following inserted:— 
not without sighes of lothest last depart, 
commutual ioie and sorowe bearings? part. 

*-'^ But when the king^? and Queen had left the place. 

^— ^ betweene her Falcon and Tercelet (that false Jackt^). 



Cambuscau tells 
his children that 



they are to love 
Truth, and do 
Justice. 



He starts at once 
for Canacelia. 



Caniballo begs 
(Janace to recion- 
cile her Falcon 
and its Tercelet. 



230 The false Tercelet laments his lost Falcon. [Pt. XII. 
^ ye exmr'me^it of ^She saicl shec woold. Anon neere to her niewe^ 

Cmiacies looMng 

giass.^ shee placd her glasse perspective out to viewe, 44-1 

(f. 34 b.) 3 \^Q\i held in proiect thinges far off and nye, 

and caught (ear longe) the tercelettes rowlinge eye : 
canace's Magic Whoe waudringB, soringe eake, viewd on the glasse ,2 

Glass shows the 

Tercelet the the fairest Falcou seemd that ever was, 448 

image of his at i t jiii i o i 

Falcon as dead, out noue alive save the shade counterteate ; 

at sight of whome his hart gann throbb & beate. 

" I see " (quoth hee), " ann image well ykennd,^ 

of one that whilonie was my verie frend : 452 

but shee is dead and gonn. ^How then^ corns it 

^that in this glasse her figure yet dothe sitt?" 

with himself by At last hce also sawe him selfe thearein, 

her side. 

hard by the Falcons side, a paire or twinn. 456 

T lamentation of ^' Ycs, yes, shecs dead" (quod th' .Falcon in the 

i/e tercelet." . „ 

niewe),^ 
''but left her storie for the false to vie we." 
'* What, dead % yes dead ! Ah, woe is mee thearfore ! " 
He repents, ^aud thcarc the tercelet wept with great deplore, 460 

mrbveasT ^^^'^ peckt deepe his brest, beatinge his winges a ground, 
to call her from the grave to heere his sound : 
" ah glasse" (quoth hee), ''mee also grave in thee !^ 
the faithlesse foile of her fidelitee. 464 

1—1 W7«ch things? shee gladlie grauntes : tho, neer^ the mcwc 

2—-'^ om. in Ash. 
3-^ to bringe all obiect^s m, both farr and nye, 

wheare caught anon the Tercelets prolinge eie : 
Whoe, soring^ on high pohit, viewd on the glasse, 
4—^ yet not alive, but the shade counterfeat*? ; 

natlilesse, at sight, his fearefull hart did beat<;^. 
" I see," said hee, "ann image earst well kennd, 
6_5 yet how 
6-6 that on this glasse her figure firme doth sytt, 

when 16 ! at thinstant sees him self6^ thearein, 
neere to the Tercelets side, a payringe twin. 

" Dead ? yea, shee's dead," the Falcon sayd, in mewe, 
'^—'^ om, in Ash. 
8—8 tho, theare the Tercelet sighd, sobbd, made deplore, 
diepe peckd his brest, oft beat*? his winges on ground, 
to call her out of grave, to heere his sownd. 
" glasse," hee said, "mee also grave in thee ! 



Pt. XIL] The Tercelet laments his dead Falcon, 231 



If ye, fye ! on kites 1 fye on all carrion kytes !^ 

nay, fye on mee (lost in their lewd clelightes) ! 

2 and 6 earth, burie niee in shame and sinn, 

but lett her out, to see and take mee in : ^ 468 

for trewer love then shee was never none, 

^I better knowe it now that shee is gone. 

her^ carefull eie mee waited everie wheare, 

and shee^ supported more then halfe my care : 472 

niy^ honor, and thiiiges of necessitie, 

^shee bowt my person kept most lovinglie.^ 

if sicke, or whole, her comfortes weare my staye, 

"^for whie*? shee ioid t' enioye my companey i"^ 476 

frend to my f render, foe to my foes, 6 blest, 

that counselld mee, and^ did all for the best. 

yet I forsooke her, other f render to tiie, 

whome suerlie still I found as false as 1 : 480 

fraile, vaine, inconstant, But not one trewe frend, 

save^ suche as on guiltes pleasures doe^^ attend. 

suche weare my newe frendes, I for these left th'old, 

"Whearefore my grief 6^ canne^ar^^ enufF bee told, 484 

how^^ I have lost my selfe, and causd her death." 

i^tho dieper peckd his brest, to reave his breath, 

saienge, **I will goe after her, and crie;^^ 

Yea, begg her kill mee for my villanie : 488 

^'^so I w^ilP"^ hold that death w^^'ch shee bestowes, 

1^ death kinder then lothd life, w/i?!ch here I lose. 

and (as death sicke) will vomite peble-stones,-^^ 



The Tercelet cries 
shame on himself, 



laments his dead 
crue Love, 



and his own 
treachery in for- 
saking her. 



He pecks his 

breast, 

and declares lie' Ik 

kill himself. 



1—1 fye, fye on kites ! out on all carrion kites ! 
2—2 earth, thearefore, burie mee in shame and sin, 

but lett her freelle out, and take mee in ! 
3—3 w/iich now is better kuovvn, that shee is gone, whose 

'^ still ^ mine ^—^ shee kept about my person lovinglie. 
''—7 still ioyinge to enioie my eompanay ; ^ that 

9 naie ^o still " cannott 12 ^^^\^ 

13—13 tho dieplie peckd his breast, to end his breath, 
oft sayings, " I'le goe after her and crie, 
14-14 go will I 
15—15 much kinder then the loathed lief^ I lose, 
and of death sicke, will vomitt peblstones, 



232 Canace restores the Falcon safe and sound, [Pt. XII. 

in signe my hard hart near was trewe but once ; 492 
The Terceiet will ^sorrowe shalbee my perch, lonesse my cave, 

ever sorrow for • ^ n n i i 

his Falcon. grieie all my loode, her memorie my grave ; 

^hatinge my selfe, alone for her will sitt, 
out of my selfe, whoe gainste her did committ." 496 
thus graunte^ (vnaskd) out of owne conscient oifer,^ 
that well is sayd to doe : ill is to suffer. 

'^ experiment of ^JSTow Cauac, wlioe b'lier vertuous ringe all knewe, 

the rings Virtue^ , ^ ^ ^ ■ i- iiii o i-- 

stood harkeninge him, yet kept her from his viewe : 
Whome heeringe so repent and macerate, 501 

resolvd t' accept him, thoughe hee came in late. 
Canace asks the ^^Good freiid" (quoth sliee), ^' what wilt thow doe formee,^ 

Terceiet what 

he'll do for her, lucase I shalP restore thy love to thee, 504 

if she'll restore tip- p i -, 

his Love to him as good and laire, as sale and sound as ever ; 
and cause debate^ to cease, to live togeather, 
^if mindiiige to demeane, in all compleate, 
no siun without and in but is deleate ^ " 508 

'I'll do all you '' Ladle" (quoth hee), " I meane doe all yee bedd,^ 

or failinge, pray pluck off my thancklesse head : 
alas,^ the bodies paines, thoughe phisicke heale, 
yet harder is the mindes cure a great deale. 512 

satisfy my Love, '^^mj lovc He satisfie (as yee endight), 

and never go 

wrong/ and enter band never to doe vnright." 

*^ I take thy word " (quoth faire Canac), and tho,^ 

^—1 sorowe, my pearch slialbee, abhorrence, cave, 
2—2 hating^ my selfg for her, alone will sitt, 
and end in that I gainst her did committ." 
intierlie instancing^ of conscient offer, 
^-^ Canace, whoe, by the virtewe of her ringe, 
knewe all hee said, stoode vnseetie, pondering^ 
how did him self*? reprove and macerate ; 
thearefore resolvd to accept him, though came late, 
and said, "ffrend 1 ffrend ! what wilt thow doe for mee? 
^—^ om. in Ash. ^ doe ^ rebuke 

7—7 so as demeaning^? with integritie 

without, within, have perfect remedie ? " 

" Ha Ladie ! " said hee, " I'le doe all yee bid, 
8 for ah ! 
^—9 He satisfye my love, as yee direct, 

and enter band, no more her to neglect." 

"I take thee at thy word," shee sayd, and tho, 



Pt. XIL] The Falcon and Tercelet are Lovers again. 233 

out of her mewgli shee lett the falcon goe. 516 

At thenterviewe, *'raehew, mehew," hee cried, The Falcon and 

. T Tercelet meet, 

^ tneare, theare was weepmge sore on everie syde ; i,e repentant, 

for bitter grief e and soddaine ioie arivd, " ° '^^^ 

made greater passion till the twaine revivd.^ 520 

Tho Canac with her ringe cuerd everie wound, canace cures 

and made theire frendships wliole^ w7^^ch. weare vn- wounds, 
sound. 

'^Theie, rendringe hartie thanckes, by kindnes strove, 
till lovers fallinge^ out, renewd their love : 524 

^vowinge them selves^ Canacies servaunte.§ ever, (f. ss) 

and Camballs too; Tho ^tooke leave, flewe^ togeather. and he and his 

Falcon fly away. 

Lo, breach thears ^ none, ne trespasse mongste old f rend es^ ? love the bmui of 

but by fitt recompence obtaines amendes : 528 

^w/r/ch ioid all th^eerers, that theire hartes and eies 

sprunge of gladd teeres, Love endinge ielowsies. Love ends 

jealousies, 

wheareby confession, w724*ch division sawe, 

had spredd too farr, did from the like withdrawe, 532 

and in theire mutual vnion of consent ^ 

defind all pleasures in one word : Contente.^ and both are con- 

loj^ow Vesper welkins silver crescent tynd, aiimw.^^ 

and hove it bove mild Zephirs pleasinge wind. 536 
Arcturus (that slowe bellman of the night) 

hunge out at his longe pole his candelks light. Night sets in. 

and calld (by name) the north erne wagoner 539 

to sett more sparcklinge egglettes bowt the beare ; '^^ 



1—1 so theare such weepings was on everie side, 
as sodaine ioie and sodaine griefe arivd, 
causd mid theire passions, that the mean revivd. 
2 suer 
3—3 whoe rendring<9 hartie thanckes, by love so strove, 
as lovers fallinges 
4-4 avowing^ them ^— ^ flewe awaie ^ jg 7—7 (,.f,i.^ 1,^ ^i^/^^^ 

8—8 whiah ioid the peoples hartes, so as theire eies 
sprung^! teeres of ioie. Love endings tragedies ; 
through whioh commutual Vnion of consent : 
'•^ Ash. here inserts : — 

confessing*^, now, they in division sawe 
hate too farr spread would aye from yt withdrawe. 
10—10 tJif^se Q iifiQs om. in Ash. n oni. in Ash. 



234 Spenser hasfolloiod Chaucer's ' Sqidres Tale! [Pt.XTI. 



The Stars come 
out. 



All the birds but 
tlie Nightingale 
go to roost. 



Epilog m. 

Chaucer wrote 

something like 

this Poem of 

mine, 

but his is lost. 

After him, 
Spenser alone 
{Fa. Qtc. IV. iii) 
wrote of Camballo 
and Canaee. 



On their bones, 
lie softly, oh 
Stones in West- 
minster Abbey ! 



544 



548 



And may all de- 
facers of Chaucer 
die disgraced I 



^and hee, in velvetes-blewe-gold-studded gowne, 
Yarckd foorth his readie steedes; w/?/cli vieringe rown, 
of twincklinge tapers drove the murninge raie, 
'which deckt the sable herse of livelesse daie^ 
in heavenns burninge chappell, sadd of light, 
which yet compares v^^ith titans glories bright. 
all birder them hied to rowste, save Philomel, 
(the cur f ewe ringer, and of lovers knell), 
calme silence, heeringe farr, and everie beast 
left the sweete feilde^, to laie them downe and rest.^ 
This, or like this, th'ingenious Chaucer wrought, 
^but lost or supprest, near was found, though sought, 
in all old libraries and Londons towre : 553 

which to supplie, no poet had the powre,^ 
save sacred •'^ Spencer, whoe twoe straines did wright 
of Camball and Canac, and found it right. 556 

6 thearfore, yee, the muses frendes, that male, 
give once a yeere this paire a wreath of baye, 
in tokenn theire greene lines doe ever flourish e, 
though blacke Sarcophagus their loines demolishe ; 560 
and yee, theire Treasorers, ofte weepinge stones, 
wax tendrer, and lye softelie on theire bones ; 
sleepe sweetlie, Sirrs, make lesse noise, ne 

paine, 
in th' Sanctuarie till they rise againe : 
for they binn heavens starrs, w7^^ch^ twincklen hier 
then yet all their starr gazers knewe t' aspire.^ 
And they which Chancers figure deigne deface, 
6 lett them live in shame, die in disgrace ! 568 



them 



564 



-1 these 10 lines om. in Ash. and the following inserted :- 
by when Lowe Phoebus, in the Ocean diepe, 
closd vp his WMes, that folke in peace goe sleepe, 
his purse with Cynthia leavings, in his stead, 
her bounteous gi'otes in emptie palmes to shed. 
2—2 but by sly courting^ to confusion brought, 

wAicb, sought in libraries and Londons towre, 
could never yet bee found by Poetes powre, 
■ 3 gracious ^ that ^ to aspire : 



Epilog.] Give Chancers Squire a Cup of Beer I 235 

and never meete with otlier memorie 
then is repeated of black obloqnie.^ 

Lastelie, yee woold afoord his gentile squire, if Chaucer's 

if hee call at your house, a cupp of beere. 572 you, give him a 

''thus endes my tale ^at length," the youth gann saye,^ ^"^^ 
*' and if they did not well, praie god wee male ; 
Whoe ever keepe vs all hurtlesselie mirrie, 
and so have with yee now to Canterburie." 576 And so, let's on to 

Canterbury ! 

^Heere folio weth the marchantes wordes to the Chaucer's End- 
Squier, and the wordes of the Hoste to the marchaunt, sq%dre's Taie. 

. , . . /-^T Q (The Squire- 

as it IS m ChaUCer.3 PrankUn Link. 

Six- Text, p. 498.) 

" In faith, Esquier, thow hast thee well yquitt,^ 'Weiidone, 

Squire,' says the 

and gentillie I praise full well thy witt ; " Merchant." 

^ quoth the Marchaunt,^ ^* consideringe thie youth, 

so feelinglie thow speakst, I thee alowth ; 4 

as to my doome, theare is none ^that is^ heere 

"^of eloquence that shalbee com?rJ thie peere, 

if that thow live : God give thee right good chaunce, 

^and in vertue^ send thee perseverance, 8 

for of thie speakinge I have great daintee. 

I have a sonn, and, by the Trinitee 1 *i'd rather have 

^I had leaver^ then twentie poundes worth lond, than get £2o in ' 

though it now fallen weare into my honde, 1 2 

hee weare a man of such discretion, 

i^as that yee been ;^^ ffie on possession, 

but if ^^ a man bee virtuous withall. 

I have my sonn snibbed, and yet^^ I shall, 16 



kind. 



I've suubd my 
Son, 



1 Ash. here inserts : — 

but pious rest hee with the Muses deere, 

Who deignd a Monument to Spencer reai'<?, 

in whose ideal iiiowld (his Faerie Queene) 

theire Verus raptus flowreth ever greene. 
2—2 at last," this youth did say, 

3_3 rjij^Q Marchant<?s wordt'S to the Squier, and the Hostes vvord6^6' to the 
Marchant, as they are in Chaucer. * acquitt 

^— ^ the Marchant sayd, <^— ^ present 

7-7 that shall of eloquence becom ^—^ in virtewe eake. 

0—9 j^Q leaver had ^^^^^ as yee. Sir, bin ii that i^ more 



236 Lanes Gnimble at the neglect of Good JPoetry. 

for^ hee to virtue listnetli not t* entend,^ 
but, he cares only ^but for to plaie at dice, and also spend , 

for dice, and talk- ^^ ^ n i i • i • 

ing with pages. and leese all that liee hath, is his vsage ; 

and he had lever to talke with a page^ 20 

then to commune^ with anie gentil wight, 
^wheare hee might learn faire gentilnes aright."^ 
"strawe for your ^gentilnes all!" (quoth our hoste.) 

^c-*^ ^ J. L.8 

1 slth 2 to intend 

3—3 but still to plaie at dice, and all out spend, 
Yea, leese but what he hath, is his vsage : 
naie, hee had rather common with a page, 
* discourse ^— ^ om. in Ash. 

6-6 gentlnesses ! " sayd our Host, &c. 
'' Ash. hei'e adds the following lines : — 
Comparatio. 
[Lane's Com- Lo heere, your Chancers piller certifies, 
phiint, 1630.] allusion ideal, never lies, 

for Prophecie and Poetrie doe find 

one art of Parobol, shewes both in kind : 

to instance that Furor Poeticus 

idemptizateth high Propheticus : 

w/iich some (of sobrest Temperances spirit) 

doe see; the rest see nought, but to admire yt, 

and how yt handes Poetasterisme from hence, 
confind at apish non Proficience ; 
Whearfore, errantes pietate, thease, 
this Etymon appeald Pierides, 

Whoe turiid weare into Pyes, 
for taylinge vanities, 
which vex A polices verse, 
for paper- mens commerce ; 
Wheareby, th'ingenious name 
goes laughd of his in fame, 
that chattereth ear yt knoe, 
what waies ought Poets goe, 
through diepest misteries 
gainst all impieties : 

Whearefore Muse vexers are 
disrolld, thrown o're the barr, 
and kyckd mongst Parretc^^ crakes ; 
Yea, cloggd for aye with Apes, 
no more to singe by rote 
in Esquilinaes bote. 

for Laureat none consent6'6', 
that rymers bold commentt^S', 
abhorrd of each learnd Muse, 
shoold dare their names traduce ; 
but doe pronounce such waer, ^ J. Ju om. ifi Ash, 



Lcmes Grumhle at the neglect of Good Poetry. 237 

^This snpplemente to Chancers Squiers tale, con- 
taininge 17 slieetes, liath licence to be printed. 
March 2 
1614. John Taiierner.^*^ ^ 

p^ On a fly-leaf at the heginning of the MS. is this 
note: — See Warton's Spenser, vol. i. 155. This seems 
to be the copy furnished by Lane the author, for the 
licencer, whose autograph is at the end.] 

slavering^s, not poems rare, [Lane's Com- 

nought Jackinge (great ne litle) plaint, 16S0,] 

of frothie coockooe spitle, 

deemd by grave poett?s, trash, 

fome, stable, balderdash, 

pedlers waer, watercresses, 

wMch no Muse real blesses : 

sith ventinge flatteries, 

as sycophant<?5 empriz^, 

in schooles vnpardonable, 

for publishinge each bable, 

aucthorizd for the chaier, 

that groneth everie whear^, 

to Poets diffamation 

and slander of this nation, 

w/^ich whilom sowd the seed 

of sownd Poesies reed : 

but now so choakd with weeded, 

that shame yt self<9 areed^.?, 

how rymers muddie plashes 

crie after frydaies lashes. 

wheare ignorance declares, 

Dromus must paie theire shares. 



And vppermore depeint, men might se, 
How with her Eing goodli Canace 
Of evere Foule the Ledne and the Song, 
Coud vnderstand as she welk hem among, 
And how her Brother so oft holpen was, 
In his myschefe, bi the stede of Bras. 

Temple of Glass. '^ 



ovi. in Ash. 2—2 These 6 lines are in Ashmole's handwriting. 



230 



GLOSSARY AND INDEX. 



By THOMAS AUSTIN. 



[A. = Aslimole MS. The references are to Cotgrave, Frenoh Diet. (1611), 
C. ; Florio, Ital. Diet. (1G59), F. ; and to New English Diet, (1885, 
&c.), B.] 



Abhorr, vh. mt. abliorr to, be ab- 
horrent to, 15/40. 

Abnegate, vh. t. renounce, reject, 
deny, I25/152. 

Absolutenes, sh. absolute authority; 
Ashm. MS. " arbitrarie will," 96/ 
124. 

Abnrne beard, auburn beard, whitish 
brown, 2O6/299. 

Accente, vh. t. make emphatic, ac- 
centuate, 220, note 7. 

Accloye, vh. t. accloye ears (Ashra. 
MS. cloy), oppress, nauseate, 67/ 
484. 

Accomptlesse, adj. countless, 201/ 
203. 

Acrostic on Henrietta Maria, wafe 
of Charles I., 5 ; acrostic, John 
Lane, to Eeader, 13. 

Addresse, vh, t let one sharpe 
pruning knife addresse our 
blocke, prepare tree for grafting, 
40/240. Fr. Addresser. 

Adore, sh. odour, 28/369. 

Adores, in adores, into their city, 
indoors, II3/527. 

Adumbration, sh. as adumbration, 
it presenter more slieene (A. fur- 
thereth his sheen), i. e. adumbra- 
tion, or shade, by its contrast 
increases apparently the sheen of 
the sun's rays, 69/522. Lat. 
Adumhratio, 
LANE. 



Advoke, vh, t. call to, summon, 17/ 
105, 67/476. Lat. Advocare. 

Affable vault, re-echoing vault, 83/ 
248. 

Affoord speech e, allow liberty of 
speech, 33/65. 

Agast, vh. t terrify, 113/5 16, 126/ 
189, 136, note 4, 157/41 3. 

Agnize, vh. t. acknowledge, recog- 
nize, 124/140. Comp. Lat. Agni- 
tio^ from Agnosco. 

Agonie, s&. anguish, I62/19, ^^^^ 
note 5. 

Agrown, on the ground, 146, 
note. 

Aim, vh. f. aim at, 1 64/73 ; aymd 
his throte, 147, note 4. 

Akafir, made High Admiral by 
Cambuscan, 58 ; his instructions 
to his fleet, 59 ; his fleet sails, 
60 ; reaches Fregiley, 106 ; block- 
ades the town on the south, 107 ; 
he is attacked, 130; overthrows 
Leifurco, 147 ; made Governor of 
Canacamor, or Fregiley, 190 ; at- 
tacks two knights at tournament, 
224 ; marries Canace, 225. 

Albe, adj. fdld albe, white field of 
shield, 85/306. Lat. alhus. 

Algarsife, son of Cambuscan, 12 ; 
bad report of him, 16 ; is dis- 
gusted at losing land that he 
claims as heir, 21 ; makes love to 



240 



Glossary and Index. 



the false Lady of the Lake, 22 ; 
his false pride and flatterers, 22 ; 
rebels against his father, Canto 
IV., p. 30; news arrives of his 
revolt, 48 ; he justifies it, 51 ; 
begins to regret his rebellion, 92 ; 
resolves on submission, 94 ; his 
scouts are defeated, 95 ; he fol- 
lows Viderea's bad advice, 99 ; 
is armed in red armour, IOO/214; 
rescued from Camballo, 103; loses 
men, 104 ; defends Fregiley, 109 ; 
fights again with Camballo, and 
is parted, 116; cheers on his 
men, 125 ; is warned not to figlit 
by night, 126 ; fights a third time 
with Camballo, 129 ; fortifies the 
market-place, 141 ; rescues Hor- 
bello, 146; fights Camballo and 
Binato, 146 ; his generals plot 
against him, 150, and he is im- 
prisoned by them, 151 ; some 
Fregilians are still for him, 166 ; 
his generals are inclined to give 
him up to Camballo, 168 ; laments 
his life and fate, 169 ; longs for 
death, 170 ; is freed by his fatlier, 
180; brought home a captive, 
193, and is forgiven, 197 ; con- 
quers Horbello, 216 ; marries 
Theodore, 225. 

All and some, one and all, I56/378, 
I8I/429. See D., All 12. 

A-longe, turnd a longe, turned 
out (eomp. Get along), 227/396 ; 
laid alonge, laid low, 139/ 10, and 
note 2. 

Alsioninge, sh. halcyoning, harbin- 
gering, I76/334. 

Amblinge minde, ?weak moving, 
undecided, I4O/41. 

Amenance, demeanour, bearing, 200/ 

185. 

Amesbury's ample landscapes, 84/ 
267. 

Amice, sb. Titan's '^greie amice 
of clouds at sunset," wrapping, 
193/16. "Amict: An Amict, 
or Amice ; part of a masking 
priests habit."' — C. luixi. Ami ctus^ 
cloak. 

Amidis, page to Cambuscan, 28 ; is 
sent to Thotobon, 119/17 ; follows 
Cambuscan into captivity, 158/ 



435 ; his epitaph on Cambuscan, 

161. 
Amilinge, part, of amel, enamel, 

42/286. " EmaU : Amell, or En- 

amell ; Emailler. To en amell." — 

C. ^ 
Amphibolies, ambiguous sayings, 

126/198. 
Anagogies, expressions with hidden 

mystic meanings, 126/ 1 97. 
Anan, adv. anon, at once, 1 92/663. 
Anchor hold, virtues anchor hold, 

or safeguard, I3I/298. 
And Vs, and his, 170/ 195 : printed es. 
Angelize, vh, int. become angelic, 

212/64. 
Annoye, sh. trouble, annoyance, 38/ 

202. 
Arcturus, bellman of the night, 233/ 

537. 

Arear, vh. int. of a horse, rear, 203/ 
254. Comp. "Stand arear," in 
Halliwell. 

Arowne, adv. around, IO5/328. 

Arround, vh. t. Videria arroundes 
their ears, rounds or whispers 
into their ears, I36/415. 

Arteirs, sh. arteries, I72/232. Lat. 
Arteria ; Fr. Artere. 

Article, sh. deaths articl', the point 
of death, I33/354. Lnt. Artictdus. 

Artishe liers, skilled liars, I39/15. 
Same as following. 

Artskilld, 139, note 4. 

Aspire, sh. aspiration, ardent long- 
ing, 12 6/200. 

Aspiringe pinackles, spiring, lofty, 
139/7. 

Asport, vh. t. bear away, gain, 117/ 
614, 220, note 2. Lat. Asjpor- 
tare. 

Astrologize, vh. tell by the stars, or 
astrologically, 162/ii. 

A trice, 9O/428, ? a-trice, with thrust- 
ing : possibly simply " a thrust." 

Attach, vh. t. attaint, 150/2 5 2. Fr. 
Aftacher. Comp. ^' Attache par 
les carrefours, publicly excom- 
municate ; or, outlawed by pro- 
clamation." — C. 

Atteare compunction, Pin tears, 
tearful, 66/437. 

Attemptate, vh. t. attempt, 153/ 3 12. 
Lat. Attemptare. 



Glossary and Index, 



241 



Audience barrd, i. e. unpardonable, 

163/32. 
Avon, sh. haven, IO8/392. 
Axell stem, axle-tree, 26/288. 
Azurn, Azurne, adj, azure, 186/521, 

and note 3. Fr. Azur^ sky-colour. 

Baggd, pj?. baggd of fowr bastardes, 
made pregnant, or with child, 35/ 
132. 

Balk, vh. t. neither thone ne thother 
balckd the feild, i, e. shirked, 117/ 
607 ; balke the place, 136/4 19, 
149, note 2 ; metaphor from a 
ridge left unploughed. 

Band, sb. bond, 232/514. 

Barbara, the syllogism by affirma- 
tives, 39/212. 

Bases, sb. housings of a horse, 204/ 
265 ; bases of orenge tawnie, 206/ 
298. 

Battailes, sb. divisions of an army 
(van, centre, and rear), 6I/317. 

Battyre, sh. batter, battery with 
artillery, 118, Proem. Fr. Battre, 
Batterie. 

Bay, vb. t. bayd at a diepe foord, 
put to bay, so as to stand, as it 
were, at bay, 89/405. 

Baysancinge, ^art. doing obeisance, 
212, note 4. Fr. Obeir. 

Bear, vb. int. beare vp (nautical 
usage), put the vessel before the 
wind, 69/282 ; hee bore vp (on 
horseback), figuratively used, 46/ 

379. ' 

Beestrown, ^p. overthrown and scat- 
tered about, 117, note 3. 

Beetl-browd, adj. Phoebus (nod- 
dinge beetl browd), beetle- 
browed, frowning behind a cloud, 
66/203 ; with prominent brows, 
from frowning. 

Before, jprep. before a criple, i. e. 
from a cripple, 1 84/498. 

Behave, sb. behaviour, 69/284. 

Behight, vb. say (in quotations 
"said"), 176/333, I9I/650. 

Belay, vb. t. beset, 104, note 1. 

Bem, sb. beam of the sun, 83/ 
260. 

Beseeche, sb. entreaty, 33/66. 

Besquint, vb. t. make to squint, 33/ 
73. 



Betake, vb. Camballo him betooke a 
wound, gave him a wound, 217/ 
163. 

Betwite, vb. t. betwit, 97, note 1. 

Bewraier, sb. betrayer, revealer, 
174/286. 

Bickerment, sb. bickering, 88/378. 

Big, vb. t. drincke and smoke had 
biggd his navil, made large, 23/ 
238. 

Binato leads first division in Cam- 
buscan's army, 84/281 ; leads the 
centre, IOO/211; beleaguers Fre- 
giley on the east side, IO7/365 ; 
fights with Horbello, 116; de- 
feats him, 130; defeats Quadru- 
mal in the tournament, 219 ; 
marries Eeglata, 226. 

Birthe, sb. birth, child, 63/109. 

Blanch, vb. t. whitewash, palliate, 
66/190. Fr. Blanchir. 

Blanckes, sb. eye blanckes, appar- 
ently blinks, glances, 66/442. 

Blase, vb. t. blazon forth, show, 96/ 
122. 

Blend, vb. t make blind, 93/36. 

Blind bobb, as vb. t. make blind, as 
at Blind-man's-buff, 167, note 9. 

Blubber, vb. t. churlishe rayne blub- 
brethe gardines bewties, i. e. dis- 
figures with wet, 29/390. 

Bliibbled eye, blubbered, tearful, 
162/13. 

Blunder, vb. blurt out, 164, note 1. 

Blush, sb. maiden blusshe (colour), 
213/81. 

Blusseth, blush eth, 69/530. 

Bobb, vb. t. to bobb out justice, get 
rid of by trickery (comp. Bob off, 
D.), 88/390. 

Bode fill, bad fill, I88/586. 

Boisteous, adj. boisterous, rough, 
227/381. 

Bolden, vb. t. embolden, 6O/58. 

Bones, sb. for goddes bones, God's 
bones (an oath), II/4. 

Boordes, vb. t. attacks, eats, 186, 
note 4. Fr. border. 

Boote, sb. boot, profit, 118/6. 

Bootie cell a, Boute-selle, trumpet 
call to saddle, 76/47, 192/663, 
210/12. 

Borrow, sb. St. George to borrowe, 
i. e. as pledge, IO9/410. 

R 2 



242 



Glossary and Index. 



Boteswaines-wliistelles, boatswain's 
whistles, 6O/290. 

Bould^ be bould to beavn, appar- 
ently bowl along to heaven on 
the horse, 45/367. 

Bownce, vh. t. bownce praise on a 
person, i, e. crack him np, 22/ 
229; vh. int. all canons bowncd, ex- 
ploded, 144/127; see also IO2/245. 

Bownces, si), quill-gvn bownces, 
pop-gun bounces of language, 
37/160. 

Brail, sh. brawl, disturbance, 221/ 
260, 60, note 7. 

Bravery, sh. finery, fine array, 100, 
side-note. 

Bray, vh. int. resound (now used of 
trumpets only), 6O/290. 

Breves, briefs, letters, 57/228. 

Bribe-full riche. dothe learn tliem 
bribe-full riche, ? doth teach them 
to be rich by robberies, I5/26. 

Bribers, sh. robbers, 2I/207. O.Fr. 
Briheur. 

Brines, the brines to stalke, to 
walk the seas, 58, note 2. 

Brinish, adj. brinishe, (briny) seas, 
48/2. 

Britch, vh. t britch his mind, ? con- 
fine as in breeches ; confer naut. 
usage of confining a gun by a 
breeching, 93, note 1. 

Brize, vh. int. breeze, buzz, I4/13. 

Brodest eye, Phoebus saw with, i. e. 
with wide-open eye, as is read 
below, 161/ 1. 

Brond, sh. brand, 153/31 8. 

Brunt, sh. shock (to mollify him), 

32/51. 

Bucephal, Alexander's horse, 63/ 

371. 

Bufi^, sh. blow, 217/157. 

Bugbear, vh. t. feare of state hath 
buggbeard vs, frightened us need- 
lessly, 165, note 1 ; see a,lso above. 

Bugges, sh. scares, vain fears 
r'threttes" below), I52/290. 

Bulge, vh. t. to bulge th' offence, 
? bilge : 1. swill, 2. wash out, 
cleanse, I9I/641. 

Bundled clowdes, masses of cloud, 
138/456. 

Bunthoto, King of Ind, comes to 
Cambuscan's tourney, 202. 



Burses, bourses, exchanges, 46/391. 

Fr. Bourse. 
Buss, vh. t. kiss, 203/238. 
Bnsshinge ram, butting ram, 44/ 

346. 
Butter noold (would not) melt in 

his mowthe, 11 5/568. 
Buy, frep. by, I89/605. 

Cabbins, huts for soldiers, 89/411. 

Cabininge, sh. construction of cab!ns 
or huts, 72/615, 89, note 11. 

Caduke, adj. caducous, perishing, 
transitory, 87/363. Lat. Caducus. 

Calcke, vh. t. caulk ships with oakum, 
58/241. O.Fr. Cauquer ; see Cot. 

Calliditie, sh. callidity, craft, 124, 
note 5. Lat. CaUiditas. 

Camballo, son of Cambuscan, 12, or 
Cambal, for metre's sake, I9/157 ; 
is temperate and self-controlled, 
23/255 ; musters his soldiers, 60 ; 
is his father's lieutenant, 6I/316 ; 
takes leave of his mother, 77/97 ; 
leads the rear of the army, 84/ 
291; leads the van, IOO/210; 
skirmishes with Algarsife, 101 ; 
fights with him, 102 ; beleaguers 
Fregiley on the west side, 107 ; 
fights a third time with Algarsife, 
129 ; dreams of Cambuscan's 
death, 155 ; distressed at his 
father's death, 162 ; together with 
his father (again alive) takes Fre- 
giley, 181 ; takes Algarsife, 182; 
fights Equestrillo, and kills him 
and Togantillo in tournament, 
217 ; marries Frelissa, 226. 

Cambuscan, King of Serra, 12; 
swears he will disinherit Algar- 
sife, 16; says all his children 
shall be married on same day, 
18 ; orders jousts, with Canace 
as prize, 19 ; plans a splendid 
theatre, 24 ; his town of Fregiley 
revolts, 27 ; his horse of brass, 
41 ; announces Algarsife's revolt, 
50 ; resolves to figlit him, 56 ; 
his army, 61 ; revicAvs it, 62 ; his 
speech to it, 64 ; his army takes 
up his cause, 65 ; his army is 
marshalled, 75 ; and he sets his 
kingdom in order, 76 ; bids his 
queen farewell, 78 ; takes leave 



Glossary and Index. 



243 



of bis wife and daughter, and 
makes Canace his executor, 81, 
82 ; his army begins march, 83 ; 
leads the centre himself, 84 ; ad- 
vances against Fregiley, 100 ; 
leads the rear, IOO/212; examines 
Fregiley, 106 ; arranges siege, 
107 ; speech to his soldiers, 110 ; 
gets his artillery ready, 112 ; 
attacks Fregiley, 113; cannon- 
ades it again, 122 ; night attack 
on his camp, 127 ; his admiral 
attacked, 130 ; forgives captives, 
133; bombards Fregiley, 138; 
cheers his men to the assault, 
143; fights Horbello, 145; is at- 
tacked by Gnartolite, 146 ; wins 
the middle gate, 148 : is surprised 
by Quidavis, stabbed and taken 
prisoner, 157, 158 ; dies, 159 ; is 
buried by Amidis, 160 ; monu- 
ments to be raised to him, 173 ; 
restored to life by Thotobon, 179 ; 
frees Algarsife, 180; he and his 
horse slay the Fregilians, 181 ; 
gives up Fregiley to his soldiers, 
182 ; refuses to forgive his son, 
184; his Order of the Golden 
Girdle, 186; drinks a health to 
his knights, 188 ; rebuilds Fre- 
giley, 189 ; reaches home, 194 ; 
is honoured by his nobles, 198 ; 
rides to the theatre with his 
queen, 200 ; holds a tourney, 202 ; 
gives the brazen horse as a wed- 
ding present to Algarsife, 225 ; 
his counsel to his children, 229. 

Camill, sh. great awkward fellow, 
I66/108. See D., Oamel, 1 b. 

Campe masters, in charge of mili- 
tary camp, 89/412. 

Canacamor, 189. See Fregiley. 

Canace, daughter of Cambuscan, 12 ; 
her father resolves to marry her, 
16 ; sends postman to kitchen 
fire, 27 ; her magic telescope, 31/ 
27 ; begs forgiveness for Algar- 
sife, 32 ; tells of Viderea's evil 
deeds, 36 ; influences her father 
for Algarsife, 40; mounts horse 
of brass, and beholds the world 
from its back, 43, 46 ; pleads with 
the army for her brother, 69 ; 
disputes with her mother about 



him, 80 ; laments the evils of the 
war, 120 ; dreams of Algarsif j's 
danger, 156 ; sorrows for her 
father and brother, 171 ; begs 
forgiveness for Algarsife, 195; 
is challenged to sing, 220 ; wins 
in the contest, 223; is won by 
Akafir in the tourney, 225 ; weds 
him, 226. 

Canon bytt, a smooth bit for a 
horse, 41/2 7 3. 

Canons and demies, i. e. demi can- 
non, cannons throwing shot of 
60 lbs. weight, and demies about 
30 lbs. (see D.), 84/288 ; canon 
ordinance, IO8/390. 

Canvacd, vh. t. ? sifted, wnth shot, 

113/525. 

Canicters, ? marks, notes, I87/566. 

Caractringe this confession on his 
will, stamping it on his will, im- 
pressing, so as to show it, 106/ 

341- 

Careful, adj. full of cares, or ? care, 
attention (" watchfull " in note 6). 
54/136. 

Caron's (Charon's) ferrie, I52/304. 

Carpenter, Edw., lines to Lane by 
him, 7, 

Carr, vb. t. him boldlie carrs, = he 
boldly carries ; lit. his armour 
carries him, 204/264. 

Carriages of iron for guns, 84/289. 

Carrier, vh. int. career, take a short 
gallop, as in tilting, or in cliarging 
in battle, 43/313. Fr. Carrier e. 

Carrowcers of wine, caro users, 
drunkards, 2I/208 ; "quaffers" in 
note. 

Carrowse pleasure, carouse, take 
one's fill of, 22/217. " Caroiisser, 
To quaffe, swill, carousse it." — C. 

Carthridges, cartridges, 58/249. ^^• 
" Cartouche^ A Cartouch, or full 
charge, for a pistoll, put vp 
within a little paper, to be readier 
for vse." — C. 

Casement, sb. her mindes casement, 
? the window by which one be- 
held her mind, 35/i22. 

Catterbrall, sb. disturbance. Comp. 
Caterivaiil^ I28/232. See Brail. 

Catterbrawle, vh. int. make a dis- 
turbance, or uproar, 221, note 6. 



244 



Glossary and Index. 



Cell, sh, saddle, 68/382. Fr. Belle. 

Certation, sh. contention, 97, note 2. 
Lat. Certatio. 

Chaine shott, chain shot, or shot 
chained together, to be more 
destructive, 68/248. 

Chaire, sh. car, 14/ 1. Fr. Ghaire. 
Comp. Lat. Carrum. 

Challengers, ships challenging one 
another to race, 2O9/370. 

Chambred-iron slingew, as traps, 
used as chevaicx defrise, 142/67. 

Champion, sh. champaign, 84/265. 
O.Fr. Campaigner Ghampaigne. 
Comp. Lat. Gampanus. 

Chargers, for charging a gun, ladles 
holding the proper charge, 58/ 
249. 

Chaw the cud, chew the cud, re- 
volve with feelings of compunc- 
tion, 92/31. 

Chawfiiinge, chafing with rage, 130/ 
273. Fr. Ghauffer. 

Chirmes, sh. the woodbirdes chirmes, 
or ch irpings, 20/ 1 86. The mel an- 
choly undertone of a bird previous 
to a storm. — Halliwbll. 

Chouse, vh. t. choose, 49/34, 86/341. 

Claniore, sh, clamour, 6^/427. 

Clombe, vb. climbed, mounted^ 43/ 

311. 
Closelie, adv. closely, secretly, 162/ 

25. 
Cock of the game, figuratively, of a 

doughty knight, 226/332. 
Cockeil, sh. cockle, corn-cockle, 11/ 

21. 
Cockeringe, sh. fondling, indul- 
gence, I87/563. 
Cogg, vh. t. feign, 184, note 4 ; 

coggd, 89, note 2. 
Cogginge, adj. cogging© humili- 

aniste, 11 6/5 80, of a man feign- 
ing humility. 
Collaud, vh. t unite in praising, 124/ 

137, and note 1. Lat. GoUau- 

dare. 
Ooll-ectes, sh. inductions, I76/315. 
Colles, sh. colls, embraces, love 

affairs, 94/77. Lat. Gollum^ neck. 
Colliginer, sh. collector ("foragere," 

below), 122/90. 
Colonies, ? Fr. Golonnes, columns, 

61, note 2, but see 76/88. 



Colors, sh, flags, 62/343 ; colour 
bearers or ensigns, 96/88 ; theire 
mistresse colors, i. e. the colours 
of their lady love, I43/97. 

Columbell, a milk-white carrier 
dove, 178/375. 

Combust, adj\ hot, literally ^' burnt 
up," 154, note 1. Lat. Gomhitstus. 

Combustioniste, sh. pott bombard, 
mutinous combustioniste, i. e. a 
mutinous stirrer of sedition, 22, 
note 1. 

Come, pp. first comm, first servd, 
54/144. 

Commercers, sh. commercers with 
iniquitie ; that is, people who 
have to do with iniquity, 222, 
note 1. 

Committ, vh. commit sin, err, 232/ 
496. 

Commover, sh. universal mover, 24/ 
284. 

Compears, sh. sighes are grief es be- 
trothd compears, compeers, or 
companions, 29/414. Phillips, 
World of WordSj says that young 
men invited to weddings are in 
some parts called compeers. 

Compleatnes, sh. weake compleat- 
nes, complete weakness, 184/ 
494. 

Complemental, adj. complimenting, 
92/23. 

Complices, sh. accomplices, IO5/315. 
Fr. ^' Complice : A Complice, con- 
federate, companion (in a leud 
Action)."— C. 

Comport, vb. t. them comport in 
glorious wellcoms, conduct them- 
selves, 194/53. " Se comporter. 
To Carrie, beare, behaue ; main- 
taine, or sustaine, himselfe." — C. 

Comportance, sh. port, bearing, 144, 
note 1. 

Comptles, adj, countless, 201, note 5. 

Cpncertation, sh. contention, rivalry, 
90/437, 97/135. Lat. Concerta- 
Uo. 

Concludentlie, adv. as a conclusion, 
consequentially, 188, note 6. 

Concomitate, vh. accompany, 4O/237. 
Lat. Goncomitari. 

Concomitation, sh. companionship, 
aid, 176/296. 



Glossary and Index, 



245 



Condisposd, pp. nimblie condisposd, 
jointly of nimble disposition, 59/ 
267. 

Condispute, sh, his owne trnithes 
coudispute, *. e. his conscience 
disputing, and working to soften 
him, 32/54. 

Conferrencies, sb. conferences, 57/ 
225. 

Conflate, vh, t. blow up, rouse, 97/ 
139. Lat. Conflare. 

Congees, sh. ladies congees, 205/ 
282 ; hee a lowe congewe beare, 
63/385 ; Titan begann to sliedd 
his congiewes humidous, i. e. 
misty, 110, note 1 ; congees, fare- 
wells. Fr. Conge. 

Connivence, sh. connivance, wink- 
ing at one's own faults, 93/41. 
" Connivence : A conniuence, or 
winking at." — C. 

Conscientlie, adv. in his conscience 
("feelingelie," below), 39/2o8. 

Consolate, vb. t. or consulate, coun- 
sel, 109/425, and note. Lat. C07I' 
sulere. 

Consympathies, sh.j i. e. people of 
like sympathy, the consymjpathites 
mentioned above, at line 292 ; 
174, note 12. 

Container, sh. that which contains, 

86/335. 
Contewnd, j9p. contuned, in musical 

harmony, 175, note 1. 
Contewninge, part, tuned in unison, 

175/293. 
Convert, vh. int. interchange with, 

agree with, I65/90. Lat. Con- 

vertere. 
Convexd, convex, as a burning 

glass, in/3Sg. L^*- Convexus, 

arched. 
Coockooe spitle, cuckoo-spit, trash, 

237. Cuckoo -spit on plants is 

secreted by an insect. 
Coolers, sh. to cool heated cannon, 

53/250. 
Cope, vh. if hope ne cope, by giving 

aid, 83/240; cope or cope with, 

214, note 2. 
Copstone, ancors at copstone, readie 

to bee wayd, i. e. anchors at cap- 
stan, 6O/289. The phrase is equal 

to the modern hove shorty and 



probably means with the cable 

so far heaved in that a few more 

turns of the capstan loosen the 

anchor, ready for bringing it to 

the vessel's side, or possibly at 

that time right inboard. 
Cosmical considerers of heaun, i. e. 

universal, 25/296. 
Counterband, sh, bond, obligation, 

197/118. 
Courage, vh. t. encourage, 100, note 

4. 
Court smoke, apparently the breath 

of court favour, 49/21. 
Cowlick, vh. f. selfe love cowlickes 

whole own maladie, i. e. cures ; 

metaphor from a cow licking its 

calf, 222, note 1. 
Crake, sh. croak, 236, note 7. Comp. 

Co7')i-crake. 
Cressletes, sh. crosslets (heraldic), 

85/306 ; crosses with small crosses 

at tlie arms. 
Crevicies, sh. crevices, i. e. first 

streaks of morn, 56/205. 
Cromatia, a bouncing girl, comes to 

the tournament, 208 ; and sings 

against Canace, 221. 
Cromaticke tunes, 21/187; notes cro- 

maticke, 221/266; cromatickes, 

as sh., 8. "A chromatic, or minor 

semitone, is between two notes 

of the same alphabetical name, 

as C and |3 C, or D and b D." — 

JEncycl. Br%t. Music. 
Cronoclers, sh. chroniclers, 24/273. 
Crossebarrs, bar shot, 58/245. 
Crow foretells wet weather, 56/20i. 
Cruciate, vh. t. torture, 94/63. Lat. 

Cruciare. 
Crull, curled, IO/3. 
Curacies, cuirasses, 11 8/3 ; curate, 

cuirass, 145/ 154. Fr. Cuirasse; 

originally of leather. 
Curb, or water chain of a horse's 

bit, 41/277. 
Cure, sh. care, 73/9. I^^^. Cura, 
Curtainettes, sh. Eve's half-curtains, 

not quite darkening, 72, note 8. 
Curtchie, sh. curtsy, 11 5/571. 
Curve, vh. t. apparently curb, 125, 

note 3. 
Curved, vh, int. curvet (of a horse), 

43/313, 205/279. 



246 



Glossary and Index. 



Curveddes, s5. curvets, 44/350, 63/ 
377. See F., " Corvetta, a pran- 
cing, or dancing of a horse." 

D' aggregate, do aggregate, or col- 
lect, 174/287. 

Darraignd, adj. ordered, set, 84, 
note 4. 

Darraigne, vh. t. honor men dar- 
raigne, men show honour, I9/150 ; 
darraignd a brave sight, pre- 
sented a fine sight, 59/266 ; to 
darraigne three hostes, to draw 
them up, 84/265 ; darraignd this 
dismal scene, formed, presented, 
155, note 1. 

Darrs, vh. t provokes, 64/404. 

Deathward, to death, 218/i88. 

Debelle, vh. t. war down, subdue, 
84, note 6. Lat. DeheXlare. 

Deceede, vh, int. decede, get down, 
209/381. Lat. Decedere. 

Decline, vh. t. ne thinke your wordes, 
alone, have to decline your rebell 
selves ; but this my discipline I 
? make excuses for, exculpate, 
beg off, II6/587. ^ 

Decore, sh. decoration, adornment, 
15/43, 59/272, 63/381, 171/216. 
Lat. JDecor. 

Decrement, sh. loss of honour, or 
position, 96/114. Lat. Decre- 
mentum. 

Dedication of Book, p. 3 ; of revised 
version, 5. 

Deedlesse speakers, men who do not 
perform their promises, 164/7 2. 

Deeke, sh. town deeke, dike or ditch, 
IO6/332, II8/10. 

Deerest-bewtie deere, I9/155; deer- 
est deero, 38/187. 

Degenerate, as sh. 53, note 7. 

Degresse, sh. digression, 36/150. 
Lat. Digressus. Digresse, in A. 

Deject, pp. blacke misscreantes, de- 
lect, i. e. cast down into hell, 46, 
note 3 ; vh. t. deiectes him at a 
tree, casts himself down by a tree, 
93/53 5 PP' ^^^ lidds delect, his 
eyelids cast down, 195, note 3. 

Deleate, pp. delete, blotted out, 232/ 
508. Lat. part. Deletus. 

Delivr, adj. deliver, active, 10/6. 
" Delivr t do sa personne : com. An 



active, nimble wight; whose ioints 
are not tyed with points." — C. 

Dell, vh. deal, 8I/202 ; warrs rough- 
est doll they freely dell, they deal 
war's roughest dole, I28/225 ; Al- 
garsife nill gainst his ffather dell, 
will not act against his father, 
150/242. 

Demean e, vh. had not his ffather 
taught him to demeane, i. e. taught 
him manners, 162/ 18 ; hee will 
so faithfullie denipane, carry him- 
self, 190/636. O.Fr. Se demener. 

Demies, demi cannon, 84/288. See 
Canons. 

Depart, vh. t. separate, IO7/361. Fr. 
'' Departir. To diuide, distribute." 
— C 

Deplore, sh. bewailing, deploring, 
72/599, 230/460. 

Depose, vh. t. put on the ground, 
191/652 ; meaning he would go 
upside-down. 

Desindes, sh. designs, 140, note 2. 

Deteare, vh. ? deter, 140, note 2. 

Die, vh. be in dying state, 1 56/392. 

Dightes, prepares himself, 219/220. 

Dilection, sh. election, choice, 188/ 

581. 

Dill vp. vh. t. deck out, adorn, I4/7 ; 
dilld-vp-whifflinge babies, 199/ 
160 ; flowres dilled for the springe, 
45, note 11. 

Dirempt, vh. t. snatch away, 144, 
note 1. Confer Lat. part. Di~ 
remptus. 

Disceptation, sh. controversy, dis- 
pute, 16/68. Lat. Disceptatio. 

Discipled, j^929. disciplined, 85/292. 

Disconcordance, sh. want of con- 
cord, discordance, 88, note 6. 

Disconditionate, vh. int. be of dif- 
ferent condition, 97/134. 

Discordance, sh. discord, 97/139. 

Discordate, vh. t. make discordant, 
209/368. Compare Lat. jDis- 
cor dare. 

Discowre, vh. t. discover, 73/4. 

Discurtain, vh. t Phebus, discurtain- 
inge his murninge face, i. e. clear- 
ing it of clouds, 41/263. 

Disflesh, vh. t. make lose flesh, 
through the loss of blood, 216/ 
140. 



Glossary cmd Index. 



247 



Disioine, vb. int, disjoin, disunite, 
82, note 4. 

Dispart, vh. t, distribute, 61, note 2. 

Dispensation, sh. dispensation, di- 
rection, 119/20. 

Disprivie, adj. disprivy, i. e. ignor- 
ant of one's inner self, 94/65. 

Disranck, vh. t. lie disranckes him- 
selfe, degrades himself, 23/247. 

Disroll, vh. t. disbar, tnrn out of roll 
of barristers, fig., 236, note 7. 

Disseasure, sh. disseisure, dispos- 
session, suffer disseisure, be dis- 
inherited, 61 /82. Compare Fr. 
Dessaisi'r, in C. 

Dissever, sh. separation, 82/220. 

Dissleep, vh. t. awake from death, 
Proem to Canto X, p. 161. 

Disspelf, vK t. ? despoil, 2I6/140. 

Distraction, sh. riot, insurrection, 
134/376. Lat. Dutractio, a pull- 
ing asunder. 

Distraid, destroyed, I56/378. 

Distraine, vh. t. will lettes sense dis- 
train e her, but not constraine 
her, 86/336 ; distrained in his no- 
ble hart, 8I/207. ^^ Destraindre, 
To straine, presse, wring, vexe 
extreamely ; also, to straiten, re- 
straine, or abridge of libertie." 
— C. 

Distroie, sh. destruction, death, 160/ 
476; distroye, 66/172. 

Distrought, vb, and distrowte, dis- 
tract, perplex, I37/442, and be- 
low. 

Disvelop, vh. t. unveil, uncover, 41, 
note 2. 

Document, sh. proof, witness, 35, 
note 7. 

Doerd, vh. t 79, note 16 (" pleasd," 
above). 

Doll, sh. dole, lot, I28/225. 

Done, vh. t. don, do on, 43/310. 

Dorr, vh. t. cheat, hoax, 98/i66. 

Drabb, sh. drab, slut, prostitutCj 36/ 

157. 
Drawinge chamber, withdrawing 

chamber, drawing-room, 93/37. 
Drippinge, adj. dripping wet, 32/59. 
Drom, vb. drum, 1 62/294. 
Drum,s&. drummer, I62/297 ; drumm, 

152/293. 
Ducello, Cambuscan's brazen horse, 



given to him by Thotobon, 41, 

6I/323 ; Ducell, 104, note 1. 
Dueltra, a bouncing girl, comes to 

the tournament, 208, and sings 

against Canace, 221. 
Dump, vh. int. be in the dumps, or 

in a gloomy fit, 91/2. 
Duplicated, adj. joint or double 

monarchy, with his father, 63, 

note 10. 
Dydappled, adj. dappled, 206, note 4. 
Dylem, sh. dilemma, 121/66. " A 

horned syllogism, wherein both 

propositions are so framed, that 

neither can well be denied." — 

Phillips. 

Ear, conj. ever, 43/326 ; e'ar, 181 /434; 
ear, ere, 76/86, 76/89, I79/383. 

Eares, sh. ears ; pluck out [cowards] 
by th'eares, 66/454. 

Edight, pp. ? idight, formed, 24/282, 

Eele, sh. heel, 38/194. 

Efferr, vh. t. bear abroad, publish, 
173, note 1. Lat. Efferre. 

Eglet, sh. eglet scyntills, sparkles of 
dew, 48/431 : dewd with pearld 
eglettes, 74/21. Fr. ^^ Esguilette, 
a point." — C. 

Eie fingeringe, i. e. rubbing one's 
eyes with one's fingers, 1 83/48 8 ; 
single eies, apparently straight- 
forward eyes, I84/497, ? in moral 
sense. 

Eights, sh. octaves in music, 176/ 

293. 

Either, adj. but that their eithers 
love hathe eithers hart, i. e. the 
love of either of them has the 
heart of the other, reciprocally, 
78/132. 

Elate, vh. t. raise, promote, 77, note 
11. 

Elate, p}-). exalted, puffed up, 63/ 
109 ; apparently vh. intr. below. 

Elates, sh. false elates, false exalt- 
ations or claims to high place, 
63, note 7. 

Elect, adj. used as sh. those who 
were chosen to mount the breach, 
142, note 7. 

Ehxal, sh. elixir, I78/372. 

Ellcatt, sh. wheare keepes th'ellcatt, 
dares all these infest ? where 



248 



Glossary and Index. 



dwells the hell-cat that dares in- 
fest all these ? 84/94. 

Elope, vh. int. run away, 62/349. 

Empirie, sh. empire (" arbitrarie 
swaie," below), 186/400. 

Empte, vh. t. empty, 219/205. 

Encamp, xib. t. encamp the towne, 
encamp before the town, IO7/365. 

Encroche, vh. int. encroach, make 
an advance, gain ground, 100, 
note 8. 

Enlarge, vh. t enlarged, set at 
liberty, I5I/277. 

Entertaine, sh. entertainment, 19/ 
141. 

Entine, vh. t. kindle, provoke, 15/ 
48 ; entines this mutinie, 64/395 ; 
entind his blood, provoked or 
fired his blood, 95/ioi ; 158, note 
8 ; entyne, 6I/326 ; entynd, of- 
fended, 29/401. A.S. Teonan^ 
provoke ; or Tenden^ Tynden, 
kindle. 

Enumerate, pp. ruminates his cap- 
tive state, lewdlie 'mongst princes 
falls enumerate, i. e. he rumin- 
ates on his captive state, pub- 
licly enumerated amongst princes' 
falls, or ? amongst false princes, 
I69/162. 

Equestrillo, comes to the tourna- 
ment, 205 ; killed by Camballo, 
218. 

Essoine, sh. need, 79/147. O.Fr. 
J^ssoine, 

Ethel, Queen of Cambuscan, 17 ; or 
Ethelta, I8/122; swears she will 
not forgive Algarsife, 38 ; com- 
forts her husband, 52 ; denounces 
her son, 53 ; urges Cambuscan to 
kill Algarsife, 66 ; addresses the 
arm}^, 67; is harsh to her son, 
71, 77 ; is left Regent by Cam- 
buscan, 75; comforts Canace, 172; 
is to decide Algarsife's fate, 185. 

Euphonie, sh. melodic proceeds out 
of musickes euphonie, 2O/183. 

Evade, sh. evasion, 39, note 4. 

Evade, vh. int. ? depart, cease to be, 
76/92 ; misprinted invade. 

Exaltate, adj. exalted, 74/17. 

Excheate, sh. escheat, deception, 
fraud, 200/166. 

Exequutere, sh. executor, 8I/212. 



Expense of blood, loss of blood, 216/ 

139- 
Exprobrate, vh. t. reproach, 105, note 
8. LaL Exprohrare. Misprinted 



Factes, sh. deeds, 190/6 18. 
Factitate, vh. t. plan, contrive, 35/ 

116. Lai. Faditare. 
Falsarie, fight falsarie, in an un- 

chivalrous way, 11 7/615. 
Falsaries, sh. falsifiers, forgers, 58/ 

126. 
Falsed, adj. feigned, false, 52, note 3 ; 

falsed boye, false boy, 64/399 ; 

her falsed make, i. e. mate, 2'z9/ 

442. 
Fanticklie, adv. fantastically, 204, 

note 4. 
Fare, sh. to fare, as fare, I86/545. 
Feathomer, sh. fathomer, i. e. as a 

reveal er, 140/2 5. 
Feaze, vh. f. harass, drive away, 68, 

note 1. See Halliwell, Feaze, 

Feize, 
Feelingelie, adv. i. e. to their pain 

they bring home scars, 49/32. 
Feild peeces, field guns, 84/283. 
Festival, adj. festive, I94/54. 
Fetch, sh. like draw, allurement, 

stratagem, trick, 55/164. 
Fett, vh. t. fetch, obtain, 9O/416. 
Flagrance, sh. illious flagrance of 

concupiscence, i. e. jealous heat 

of concupiscence, 154, note 1. Lat. 

Flagrantia. 
Flaialles, sh. FlaialW of the forge 

("fflyales," below), rods, 2I9/203. 

Lat. FlogeUum. 
FlanckerSj sh. flanking fortifications, 

IO6/332, 138, note 3. 
Flatuous, adj, windy, as below, 74/ 

14. 
Flears, vh. int. fowle discord fleares 

or reviles, 22I/260. 
Fleshe-flies, used metaphorically of 

parasites, 28/243. 
Flesh-monginge, adj. carnal, 99/187. 
Flesht in libeitie, ?== incarnations 

of liberty, possibly glutted with 

liberty, 28/253. 
Flices, sh. wolien flices, or fleeces, 

evening clouds, IO9/427 ; Titan's 

golden flize, his golden fleece of 



Glossary and Index. 



249 



rays, 91, note 6 ; golden flize, 

figuratively, of a prize to win, 

110/450. 
Flint, vh. t. syntilles, or sparks, flint- 

inge fyer, i. e. as fire is forced 

from flint and steel (see below), 

78/138. 
Fli3e, vh. t. fleece, 76/87. 
Floitinge, 'part, fluting, playing the 

flute, 10/13. 
Florent, adj. floral, 74/ 16. Lat. 

Florens. 
Flubberinge, sh. blubber-mouthed, 

183, note 12. Compare Flopper- 



Fluctuation, sh. the wash of the sea, 
IO8/397. " A rising or swelling 
of waves." — Phillips. 

Food, sh. feud, 219/2o6 ; food men, 
foemen, 2I6/133, 

Foolize, vh. t. make foolish, think 
foolish, 88/390. 

Foot, sb. obnoxious threttes bin but 
th' length of theire foote, appar- 
ently meaning that they went no 
further than threats, and dare not 
fight, 225/336. 

For, prep, through, IO2/246. 

Forage, vh. t. forage hates hart, for 
loves emulation, ? meaning that 
to destroy Fregiley would even 
draw love from the heart of Hate, 
foraging as it were to get pity 
from hatred, 31/22. 

Forecurates, fore-cuirasses, or breast- 
plates, as opposed to back pieces, 
68/251. 

Foreright, adv. right in front, 127/ 
222. 

Forker, vh. the sting of a snake 
{i. e. wrongly supposing the tongue 
to be the sting), I56/388. ? Fr. 
fourche, or O.Fr. Fourchier. 

Formerlie, adv. first, 66/462, 

Freckle, sh. spot, 229/435. 

Freckled white clowdes, freckled 
cloudes, i. e. spotted, below, 30/ 
426. 

Fregiley revolts from Cambuscan, 
27; is a stately town, 31, 50; 
held by Algarsife, 51 ; is be- 
leaguered, 111 ; fire opened on it 
again, 118, 122 ; the Fregilians 
desire peace, 124 ; hang a cap- 



tive, 134 ; Fregiley is battered 
down, 139 ; is captured, 181 ; is 
rebuilt and called Canacamor, 
189 ; given to Akafir as dower, 
226. 

Frelissa, a Roman lady, comes to 
tournament, 208. 

Friskalles, sh. f riskings, 46/398. 

Frolick, vh. t. exercise cheerfully, 

90/434. 
Frolicke, adj. merry, cheerful, 228/ 

405. 

Frown, vh. frown upon ; gunes him 
frownd, guns frowned on him, 
104, note 1. 

Frydaies lashes, ? scourgings on 
Friday, figuratively, 237. 

Frye, vb. t. incite, stir, 1 54/346. 

Fulgrous, adj. fulgrous heavn, flash- 
ing with lightning, 127/2 17. 

Fullfill, sh. fulfilment, bringing about, 
95/82. 

Furbushd, furbished up, or, as bo- 
low, scoured up, i. e. the arms 
made ready, 67/231. Fr. Fourhir. 

Further th'eeringe, further from the 
hearing, 93/38. 

Fyle, sh. file, of troops, like rank . 
and tile, 6I/314. 

Fyrbal, as adj. fyrbal straines, hot 
strains, 89/393 • ^®® next. 

Fyrbaliste, sh. used of a man with a 
hot tongue, as it were spouting 
fireballs, 11 6/5 79. Fireballs were 
used in war. 

Gabien ioope-holes, loopholes made 
with gabions, 1 12/498. *' Oahion : 
A Gabion ; a defence for Cano- 
niers, made of great baskets filled 
with earth."--C. 

Gaile, s6. jail, 185/5 13. 

Garboiles, sh. disturbances (" wars," 
above), 90, note 4. Fr. Garhouil, 
hurlyburly. 

Gardantes, sh. guards, used as adj. 
below, 203/248. 

Gardeloope, 68/238, lit. beware of 
the wolf, ? meaning. 

Gast, vh. t. frighten, 157, note 5. 
Comp. Agastj in D. 

Gastfull, adj. fearful, frightful, 155/ 

365. 
Gay, vh. inf. wave gaily, IO5/304. 



250 



Glossary and Index, 



Gearl, sl\ girl, 39/223. 

Gemelized, J9j9. (gemelized) one 
creature, twin, so as to form one 
creature, 44/340. O.Fr. Gemel : 
Gemeau. 

Geneper, so. Genepers exhaled 
tewnes, 222, note 1. ? meaning-. 

Gervis, a dull poet^ 222, note 1. 

Gewles. gules, in heraldry, red, 85/ 
306, 99/193. O.Fr. Oiceules. 

Glasse, vh. t, to glasse to th' eye th' 
opinion of him self e, apparently 
as with a magnifying-glass, 16/ 
61 ; used of a telescope showing 
what was the case, 31/28. 

Glasse, sb. glasse prospective, a 
magic telescope, 27/345 > ^ niag- 
nifying-glass, 35/113. 

Glewe, sh. mowthe glewe, ?glue, 
which is only spittle, 66/442. 

Glimpsinge like armd men, gleam- 
ing like them, 11 8/4. 

Gluff, ?halfpike, 90/426. 

Gnartoly, IO3/283 ; Algarsife's 
general at Fregiley, IO9/420; 
calls to Cambuscan, II5/559; 
Gnartoly, or Gnartolite, attacks 
Cambuscan's quarters, 128 ; at- 
tacks Cambuscan, 146 ; is taken 
and branded, 227, 

Gnewe, gnawed, bit, I32/322. Comp. 
sneio (snowed), theio (thawed), 
still used provincially. 

Goggle, vh. t. goglinge bothe eyes, 
making to stare, II5/572. 

Goiles, sh. spongy grounds, 47/414. 

Grace, vh. t. to grace disgrace, 
make disgrace grace, 23/236. 

Graffes, sh, grafts, 4O/239. Fr. 
Greffe. 

Grandfather, great, of chivalrie, fig., 
34/102. 

Grasse, sh. no grasse grewe vnder 
his horses feete, i. e. from his 
speed, 26/237. 

Gratuitie, sh. gratitude, 68/499. 

Gree, sh. ? degree, 78, note 2. 

Grown, sh. Akafir gott some grown, 
u e. gained ground (in war), 113/ 
518, 147/186: a grown, on the 
ground, I45/136. 

Guistes, sh. gusts, 1 59/460. 

Guize, vh. it guizinge still, t' en- 
treate before command, ? disguis- 



ing his intentions, to find out the 

army's sentiments, 63/387. 
Gule and avarice, gluttony and 

avarice, 24/26 1. Lat. Gula. 
Gwesse, vh. guess (note pron.), IO/4. 
Gwides, sh. guides (uote pron.), 48, 

note 6. 

Haggard, sh. unruly, untamed 
(" weaklinge poet," above), 199, 
note 2. " Hagard : Froward, in- 
comp atibl e ." — C. 

Halcion, vh. t. slice halcioneth her 
spite, tells forth, I49/236 ; lialsi- 
ond bothe hartes broke, liarbin- 
gered, foretold, 83/240 ; halson, 
proclaim, 24/263. 

Halfe swoorde, half sword's length, 
103/264. 

Hancocke, George, lines to Lane by 
him, 8. 

Hand, sh. att anie hand, under any 
circumstances, 143/ 109. 

Hauon, sh. haven, 59/264. 

Hegges, hag's, 36/154. 

Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles 
I., acrostic to her, 5. 

Heraultes, sh. heralds, pronounced 
h^raultes, 82/229. O.Fr. Ileraidt. 

Heroes, 67/479, H^, note 3. 

Hight, vh. said, spoke, II9/24. 

Hipochreete, sh. hypocrite, 35/ 126. 

Historify, vh. t. depict as an historic 
subject, 26, note 5. 

Hoisd, p2^. mayne yardes vp hoisd, 
hoisted up, 6O/288. 

Home, as adv. charge home, into 
the enemy, 62/352, IO2/259 '•> 
keepes home his glories, keeps in 
his rays, 69/520 ; make home, 
tlirust home, 146/ 168 ; home- 
thrusts, 147/190; give home the 
lie, 148/198. 

Horaloger, sh. chaunticleere, the 
sadd nightes horaloger, ? honr- 
teller, 73/ 1. '' Horlocjer : Hor- 
logeur : A Clock-maker, or Dyall- 
maker." — C. 

Horbello^one of Algarsife's generals, 
109/418; is placed in the van, 
144/1 13 ; is struck down by Cam- 
buscan, 146/158; conquered by 
Algarsife, 216. 

Horse of brass is given to Cam- 



Glossary and Index. 



251 



buscan by Thotobon, 41 ; Cam- 

buscan and Canace mount him, 

43 ; the horse mounts in the air, 

44 ; tlie army admires him, 63 ; 

helps to' take Fregiley, 181 ; is 

lent to Algars'fe, 214. 
Howies, sh. owls, 38/189. 
Howt, vh. proclaim, 132/3 19, ^^^ 

below ; 44/335, out crienge, below. 
Howzd^ |9/). housed, 113, note 1. 
Huff and snuff, vh. play the bully, 

quarrel, 169/i66 ; huff snuff, s5. 

arrogance, 21, note 11. 
Humblike, humbly, 184, note 4. 
Humblinge,_par^. humbling himself, 

94/70. 
Humidous, adj. moist, wet, 110/ 

430- . 
Humilianiste, sh. one showing false 

humility, 11 6/5 80. 
Humorist, sh. humourer (used of 

parasites), 22/226. 
Hungar, adj. his leather hungar 

band ('Miunger waste," above), 

i. e. of Hungarian leather, 179/ 

398 ; well tand leather hunger, 

41/271. 
Hurraie, sh. uproar, 1 52/293. 
Hurtles, adj. hurtless, 8I/200. 
Hm-tlesselie, adv. hurtlessly, 235/ 

575- 

Jacke of barlie strawe, ? == a black 

jack of beer ; or, as we should 

say, a beer-barrel, 22, note 1. 
James L, 7. 

langien, vh. int. jangle, 49/33. 
lawes, sh. bringes all by the iawes, 

i. e. by the ears, 64/406. 
Idemptates, sh. identicals ("trewe- 

likes," above), 97, note 4. 
Idemptizate, vh. be identical with, 

236, note 7. ■ 
Jeffries, choir-master at Wells, lines 

to Lane by him, 7. 
lelleous, adj. jealous, 50/47; ieleous, 

149, note 2. 
lette, vh. int. strut, 21/197. Lat. 

Jactare; O.Fr. Jecter ; Mod.Fr. 

Jeter. 
niecebration, sh. allurement, 86, note 

14 : from Lat. Illecehrare. 
Illious, adj. jealous, I54/344, and 

note ; 95/103. 



Imitablie, adv. imitably ("for im- 
posture," below), 37/174. 

Immovd, adj. unmoved, 162/20. 

Imp, vh. t. imped on his feather, 
added in imitation, 4. "To 
Jmj9e, a term in Faulconry, signi- 
fieth to insert a Feather into the 
Wing of a Hawk, instead of one 
which was broken."— -Ppiillips. 

Impresse, _pp. impressed, I49/230. 

In, sh. had taen their In vp, taken 
up their abode, 127/2 18. 

Incast, vh. t. cast into (the breach), 
141/63. 

Incensd, pp. heated, 178/37 1. Lat. 
Incensus. 

Incomm, sh. income, entrance (par- 
ticiple below), 103/278. 

Indigestes, sh. indigestible things, 
things that stuck in their gizzards, 

30/4. 

Infame, sh. slander, defamation, 236, 

note 7. 
Infest, vh. t annoy, enrage, 150/ 

258. Lat. Infestare. 
Inioines, vh. t. enjoins, 60/301. 
In-makes, vh. 1, i. e. works in the 

mind, I69/157. 
Insect, vh. t, insert, 13, note 5. 
Inskrewe, vh. t. insinuate, work in, 

139/20, I66/105. 
Instance, vh. t suggest, urge on, 

134/366. 
Instepp, sh. rose instepp hie, or as 

high as the instep could strain, 

207, note 6. 
Intensd, vh. t. he intensd, intensi- 
fied, made strong, 178, note 3. 
Interdell, sh. interdeal, mutuality of 

blows, 215/122. 
Intuence, sh. intuitiveness, 63/358. 
Intuent, adj. intuitive, 93, note 1. 
Invndation, sh. whose horse fomed 

the seas invndation, foamed a sea 

of form, 205/277. 
Invert, vh. t. invert the seaes rage, 

? upset, so as to empty out, 5. 

Lat. Invertere. 
Invest, vh. t. put on, 211/22 ; Titan 

him invested in his amice grey, 

i. e. clothed or hid himself in 

clouds, 193, note 1. Lat. Inves- 

tire. 
lollelie, adv. merrily, II5/560. 



252 



Glossary and Index. 



lorner, sb. journey er, 9I/4. 
Ire-marckd with arm M and D, 
iron-marked or branded (M. D. 

? = Marauding' Deserter i), 227/ 

. 395. 

Irn, sK iron, 68/243. 

Ites, its, 53/107. 

luris apicis, main point of law, 54/ 
144. 

lu.sticers, sh. justices, 7O/549. '''•lust- 
icier: A Justice, or Justicer/' — C. 

lustizd by truith, justified, made 
just, 34/110. 

Jyn, sh. engine, contrivance, 44/ 
355- 

Keep, vh. int. live, dwell, abide, 34/ 

94. 
Kennes, sh. farr lantskipp kennes, 

distant views of the landscape, 

42, note 7. 
Kervers, sh. carvers, fig., i.e, wars 

should be the m^ans of supplying 

their selfishness, 49, note 9. 
Kill-ciiringe buttcheries, i. e. surgi- 
cal operations that cure by killing, 

120/56. 
Kind, sh. out of kind, ? out of mind ; 

lit. out of kindred, 68/516. 
Knightlye, adj. in a knightly way, 

17/78. 
Knobbie, adj. ? projecting up, 112/ 

488. 
Knote, ?know it, 7I/579. 

Lane, commendatory lines on him, 
7, 8 ; he laments the neglect of 
good poetry, 236. 

Larg»j sh. in music, 221 /246. " Large^ 
the greatest measure of Musical 
quantity in use, one Large con- 
taining two Longs, one Long two 
Briefs, one Brief two Semi Briefs." 
— Phillips. 

Laugh, vh. laugh in ones throte, i. e. 
to one's face, 141 /50. 

Lay, vh. t. lay lode on, lay load on 
(of blows), 102, note 2; lay 
alonge, level with the ground, 
139/10. 



Leadens, sh. languages, talk, 57, 
note 8 ; 82/233 ; ledne, 237. 

Leavers, sh. levers, for raising 
cannon, 11 2/496. Fr. Levier. 

Leifurco, or Leyfurco, one of Algar- 
sife's generals, helps to defend 
Fregiley, IO9/421 ; attacks Akaiir, 
130; treacherously seizes Cam- 
buscan, 158 ; is taken and branded, 
227. 

Levineth, vh. ?leaveneth, worketh, 
as with yeast, 116, note 1. Fr. 
Levain. 

Lex talionis, or returning like for 
hke, 135/381. 

Liefe infusinge, life infusing, 24/ 
271. 

Lint-stockes, sh. sticks to hold the 
gunners' matches, about two feet 
long, 58/250, 112/496. 

Lithie, adj. lithy, lithe, 172/228. 

Lodd, vh. t. lodd on, led on ("lod," 
below), 100/212. 

Lookinge gl asse, sh. Can ace's magic 
glass, or telescope, 3I/27. 

Lopeholt, sh. loophold ('Hope- 
skonces," or loopholed forts, be- 
low), 149/224; lopeholtes, 109/ 
424. 

Lopp, vh. leapt, 44/334. 

Lowe and loft, alow and aloft, 138/ 
448. 

Lowr, sh. lower, lowering looks, 
sullenness, 89/404. 

Luer, sh. (" lewre," below), lure, 

155/347. 
Luminate, vh. t. illuminate, 91 /5. 

Lat. Luminare. 
Lustrant, adj. going about, 17/85, 

67/479- 
Lustren, vh. int. nerves lustren ser- 
viceable, 91 /440, apparently means 

become serviceahle. 

Machinate, vh. t. plan artfully, plot, 
46/394 ; machinate your life, plot 
agaiost, lay plans against your 
life, 64/411. Lat. Machinari. 

Maiestifyed, made majestic, 2II/24. 

Maine stone, some fiunge the maine 



^ By the Act 1 Edw. VI., cap. 3, Vagabonds were to be branded with a V., and 
adjudged as Slaves to an employer. If any Slave ran away, he was to be branded 
with an S. 



Glossary and Index. 



258 



stone, i. e, put the stone, 90/ 
430. 

Make, s&. mate, 62/98. 

Malgenius, adj. Malgenius shift, i. e. 
planned by her evil genius, 99/ 
184; used below as a substan- 
tive. 

Mantel-wimplinge clowd, i. e. wimp- 
ling, or covering as with a mantle, 
56, note 14. 

Manumission, sh. at her meere manu- 
mission, i. e. liable to be freed or 
not, at her choice, 5I/78 ; see be- 
low. Lat. Manumiss'io. 

Martial captaines court, or court 
martial, I32/323 ; martial lawe, 
see below, note 5. The court is 
called the "court of captaines" 
in note 3. 

Martial istes, i. e. soldiers, warriors, 
70, note 19. 

Maturation, sh. maturity, manhood, 
68/492. 

Mavortial, adj. martial, warlike, 57/ 
227, 145, note. 

Mawlger, in spite of, notwithstand- 
ing, 64/390, 148/202 ; willy-nilly, 
194/46. O.Fr. Maulgre. 

Mayn, adj. used as substantive, 
main point, end, II2/507 ; mayne 
carryer, full career, 42/290. 

Mayne, sb. main, i. e. mainland, 44/ 

358. 

Mazefull, adj. full of amaze, 45/362. 

Meagerlie, adv. meagerlie bestridd 
(of a horse), i. e. with poor trap- 
pings, 207/334. 

Measurable, adj. like measurable, 
each having equal share, I8/124. 

Meedes, -*?&. t. merits, 107/ 37 8. 

Melton, John, lines to Lane by him, 
8. 

Messenger blowe, i. e. a blow sent 
at him, I3O/275. 

Messt, vh. missed, I29/248. 

Mettall men, workers in metal, 70/ 

544. 

Mewe, sh. mew, cage for hawks, 57/ 
215; mewgh, 233/516. 

Milkinge his mustaches, i. e. point- 
ing them, and playing with them, 
115, note 7. 

Mischaunt, adj. meschant, wicked, 
cursed, 66/447. Fr, Meschant 



Miseonster, vh. t. misconstrue, 25/ 

309- 
Misse, sh. sin, transgression, 195/6o. 
Mistresses, maids of honour, 213/77. 
Moiners, sh. miners, mines, I4I/63. 
Monarchize, vh. t. rule, sway as 

monarchs, I67/119, ^^^ below. 
Mordure, Arthur's sword, 84/272. 
Morliuo, Cambuscan's sword, 61/ 

329; its great length, II4/545, 

128/243. 
Morpheus, the god of sleep, his 

ebon mace, tipped with lead, 31/ 

25. 
Mortify, vh. t. destroy, annihilate, 

quench, 224/312. 
Mountbancke, adj. behaving like 

mountebanks, charlatanic, 166/ 

108. 
Mowldre, vh. t. murder, I45/142. 
Moyne, sh. ? mine, 48/428. 
Mulciber, sh. lit. Vulcan ; ? blnck- 

smith following an army, 112/ 

494. 
Murderer, sh. a small cannon j with 

movable breech, 11 3/5 20. 
Musicke, wind and stringe, 2O/173. 
Muskettes, sh. musketeers, 84/274. 
Mutiners, sh. mutineers, 189, note 

13. Fr. Mutiner, to mutine. — C. 
Mutinistes, sh. mutineers, 189/6 16. 
Mutinizinge, sb, mutinous, 54, note 

3. 

Naprie, sh. napery, table-linen, 57/ 
219. Fr. Napperie. 

N'ath, hath not, I88/577. 

Near, adv. ne'er, never, 164/62. 

Neereabout, about the neighbour- 
hood, 100/205. 

Nempt, vh. t. took, 116, note 13. 

Nesteltrett, sh. ? one treated as a 
nestling, 5I/76, 54/139. 

Neve, sh. eve, 89, note 13. 

Nextlie, adv. next, 78/i2i. 

Nighter, adj. nighter tale, night 
time, 11/19. 

N'is, is not, 30/8, 39/2IO. 

Nitent, adj. shining, 185/5 1 9. 

Nocent, adj. criminal, wicked, 121/ 
yy. Lat. Nocens. 

Noffc, adj. naught, worthless, bad, 
37/182. 

Noold, vh. would not, 47/405. 



254 



Glossary and Index. 



Normes, s&. norms, precepts, 88/183. 

Lat. Norma. 
Note, adv. not, 51 /6g. 
Nourice, sb. nurse. Fr. Nourrice^ 

fig. ; aider, 12. 
Noimm, setters at iiouimi^ on fyve or 

nyne, i. e. at sixes and sevens, 

47/410; playe at novum, 209/3 84. 

Lat. Novem. Novum was a game 

at dice. 
Numen, sh. deity, 1 76/296. 
Nycenes, sh. niceness, nicety of 

judgment, exactness, 98/i62. 
Nyer, adv. near, 62/342. 

Obaisaunce, vh. int. incline oneself 
to deity, do obeisance, 212/49. 

Obsession, sh. besieging, beleaguer- 
ing, 99/182. Lat. Ohsessw. 

Occoiirse, sh. occurse, meeting, 215/ 
116. Lat. OccuTsus. 

Okebam, sh. oakum, 58/242. 

Olbion, sh. Albion, 84/270. 

Ops, wife of Saturn, I85/530: she 
was protectress of agriculture. 

Oratresse, sh. oratress, female 
speaker, 86/149. 

Orecliaw, vh. t. chew over, ruminate, 
99/171. 

Orelooke, vh. t. overlook, used of a 
witcli, like oversee ; eye, and be- 
witch ; 38/71. 

Out-begg, vh. t. pray off, beg off 
(" appease," above), 89, note 8. 

Out-plaisters, 57/212. 

Out-runn, 2^- fig. 5 beaten, overcome, 

142/74. 
Out-skowtes, out-scouts, 9O/415. 
Out-slipp, jpp. thy blemisshes out 

slipp, i, e. that have slipped out, 

94/58. 

Pall, sh. white lillies, violetes blewe 
(her faces pall), i. e. covering, 
or complexion. Comp. blushes, 
mantling a cheek, 28/376 ; cloak, 
or' mantle, 218/69. Lat. Pal- 
Hum. 

Pane, sh. see C. : '^Pan: A pane, 
peece, or pannell of a wall," 138, 
note 3. 

Papern, adj. made of paper, used 
disparagingly, 66/442, II4/542. 

Parboild, adj. parboild mone, ? a 



half-hearted, as it were half-done, 

moan, 89, note 2. 
Pari, vh. parley, 62/352. Fr. Parler. 
Partes, sh. abihties, 86/123. 
Partialie, adv. partially, in a partial 

way, I87/564. 
Pasternes, sh. pasterns ; liftinge his 

pasternes (of a good stepper), 48/ 

330. ^^ Pastern, the Huckle-bone 

of any Beasts foot." — Phillips, 

O.Fr. Paturon^ Pasturon. 
Pastworkes, sh. pasteworks, or pies, 

I86/541. 
Peciselie, adv. precisely, I9I/643. 
Pell mell, with a rush, headlong, 

confusedly, II6/552, I28/224. 
Peltinge, adj. peltinge orator, mean, 

paltry, bbjiGi. 
Pensivenes, sh. penslvenes I live, 

I live a life of pensiveness, 69/ 

542. 
Peopl, people, 52, note 3. 
Percursiter, sh. precursor, 30/2. 
Perdij, Perdy, O.Fr. Parde, Par 

Dieu, By God I 52, note 3; 120, 

note 1. 
Perpolishd, adj. highly polished, 

189/7, 173/261. 
Persant, adj. piercing^ 102/2 57. Fr. 

J) erg ant. 
Perscrutation, sh. investigation, 175/ 

301. Lat. Perscrutatio. 
Perspective glasse, sh. a magic tele- 
scope, 176/331. 
Petegrees, sh. pedigrees, 189/20. 
Phanticke, adj. fantastic, 199, note 5. 
Pheares, sh. feres, companions, 15/ 

39; phere, I9/138. 
Philomel, the curfew ringer, the 

jiightingale, 284/547. 
Pike, sh. pikeman, 28/234, 62/345. 
Pilates, sh. pilots, steersmen, 58/ 

260. 
Pilla, sh. pillow, 76/48. 
Pillards, sh. pillagers, 182, note 3. 

Fr. Pillard. 
Pillcre, vh. t. pilfer, 24/259. 
Pinn, sh. on a mirrie pinn, or pin, 

? from drinking as far as a pin in 

the cup, 18/ 1 26. 
Pi oners, sh. pioneers, 72/6 12, 137/ 

440. 
Plaine songe, plain chant, simple 

chant, 204/258. 



Glossary and Index, 



255 



Platf, sh. plat, flat of sword^ Fr. ^lat 
(see CoTGE.), 197/99 5 plattside 
(of sword), with same meaning, 
214, note 2. 

Play, vh. int. of cannon firing on a 
place, 123/109, 123/113. 

Playe, 8b. soldiers pi aye I IO5/321 ; 
manlie plaie, II3/523. Comp. 
'^ Well played I "-—at cricket. 

Pleasurable, adj, possible or fit to 
be pleased, 52 /go. 

Pleasurablie, adv. from adj. above, 
55/163. 

Pleasure, vh. t. please, 52/go. 

Plebiscitie, sh. plebiscity, mob go- 
vernment, 66, note 20. 

Pleiades, 48/ 1. 

Plottformes, sh. platforms for guns, 
IO8/399. ^^ Plateforme : A plat- 
forme, or square bulwarke." — C. 

Poem, sh. I99/146. 

Poetasterisme, sh. petty poetship, 
236, note 7. 

Point, sh. make full point, as with a 
sword ; hit the nail, 55/i8i. 

Point, vh. t. make points in, puncture, 
217/156. 

Pointwise, with the point of a 
weapon, IO2/256, 147/ 197. 

Pose, vh. t. put in a pose, or quan- 
dary, 33/68. 

Postern, s6. posteriors, I66/387. Late 
Lat. Posternus. O.Fr. Fosterne, 
Foterne, Posterne gate. — C. 

Potarrs, sh. small forts, III/473. 

Potence, sh. power, IOO/215. Lat. 
Potentia. 

Pott bombard, sh. figuratively, of a 
drunkard, 22, note 1. 

Powder - serpentine, powder for 
guns called serpentines, I37/441. 
" Powder-serpentine is like dust, 
and weak."^ — Smith, Seamanh 
Gram., p. 89 (P]d. 1692). 

Powldred, adj. powdered, powdery, 
26/335. Comp. O.Fr. Poiddre. 

VowMcd, pp. dotted, spotted, 42/284. 

Pr^sidentes, sh. precedents, lljSo. 

Preceptualie, adv. according to pre- 
cept, I6/54. 

Predignities, sh. precedencies in 
honour, higher dignities, 64/152. 

Predominantlie, adv. in a predomi- 
nant way, 211/28. 

LAXE. 



Prest, adj. quick, ready, IO9/406. 

O.Fr. Prest. 
Pricken out, vh. spur out, 219/21 5. 
Prime-nates, sK first-born sons, 54/ 

149. 
Princke, vh. t. prink, prank, adorn, 

49/25. 
Proem by Lane to Chaucer's Second 

Part, 12. 
Progenitresse, sh. female progenitor, 

mother, 18/ 112. 
Proiect, vh. make projects, scheme, 

94/69. O^Fr. Projeder.—O. 
Promote, sh. promotion, 25, note 

14. 
Promove, vh. t. promote, d4:/yy. Lat. 

Promovere. 
Propertie, sh. of propertie, naturally, 

121/72, 156/385. 
Prospective, eh. at prospective, on 

the look out, I93/19. 
Provoke, vh. t. provokes foorth, calls 

forth, 54/157. 
Prowdinge them, drawing them- 
selves up proudly, going about 

proudly, 2I/206. 
Puissance, s&. power, 125/i 57. Fr. 

Puissance. 
Pulleene, vh. int. shoot, spring, 205, 

note 3. 
Pulleine, sh. spring, growth, 205/ 

286. 
Purest-pure. Comp. Deerest-deere, 

36/151. 
Purvier, sh. purveyor, I54/327. 0. 

Fr. Pourvoyeur, provider. 
Pusselles, Puzzelles, sh. 2O8/362. 

Comp. ^^ Pucelle de Marolle. One 

that rather goes for a maid then 

is one." — C. 
Put, vh, t. putt his horse and him 

Sc3lfe toot (to it), i. e. ride and 

walk hard, 43/328. 

Quadrumal, Lord, has dealings with 
the witch Viderea, 35 ; he comes 
to the tournament, 207 ; is there 
conquered by Binato, 219. 

Quaff, sh. large draught, 6O/304. 

Quatt, vh. t. make lie down, or squat, 
138/450. 

Quid, sh. the garrison chawd many 
a quid, of reflection, 118, note 2. 
Comp. Ohaw the cud, 92/31. 
s 



256 



Glossary and Index. 



Quid avis, Cambuscan's purveyor, 
is bribed to betray him, 164 ; acts 
as torchbearer in a masqae at the 
tournament, and hangs himself, 
228. 

Quill-gun bownces, i. e. pop-gun re- 
ports, 37/160. 

Qaintescencd,^^. made into a quint- 
essence, 178/372. 

Quitt, vh. t. acquit, pardon, 195/ 
60. 

Qaittinge, part, requiting, repaying, 
147/1 80. 

Qui vola ? Qui va la ? who goes 
there ? 157, note 3. 

Rabican, a horse, 63/37. 

Radicke, adj. radicke witchcraft, 

? radical, 34/92. 
Raie, ray, sh array, dress, 2O6/310; 

statues faire of raie, adornment, 

173/258. 
Raigne, sb. rein, 46/382, 47/412 ; 

raignes, reins of government, 

135/396. 
Raile, vh. int. well forth, gush, 216/ 

138. 

Ramp, vh. int. creep, I37/422. Fr. 

^' Hamper. Creepe, crawle, 

climbe." — C. 
Rathe, sh. early time ("vers rath," 

below), 74/27 ; rathe soldiers, 

early up, 131 /3 13; rathe ripe, 

17/83. 
R aught, vh. t. reached, caught, 36/ 

141. 
Ray, vh. array, get into order (of 

troops), 91/10. 
Raye, sh. array, dress, I8/130; array, 

order (military), 89/401. 
Rebarter, vh. t. give in exchange, 

127/220. 
Rebowncinge,_par^. bownncinge, re- 

bowncinge, exploding again and 

again, IO2/245. 
Rechawe, vh, t. rechawe his modie 

cudd, i. e. in moody reflection, 

95/102. 
Rccomplaine, vh. complain again, 

94/68. 
Reddie, vh. t. him rcddies, readies, 

prepares himself, 215/li6. 
Reglata, a Roman lady, comes to 

tournament, 208. 



Regreete, vh. t. greet in return, 35/ 

125. 
Reknettes, vh. t. reknits, 210, Proem. 
Relishes, sh. in music, 228/287. 
Remott, ac/y.' remote, IOI/232. 
Renlarge, vt. t, enlarge again, 76/ 

88. 
Renstall, sh. reinstalment, in favour, 

195, note 1. 
Repaire, sh. repair, repairing to a 

place, 42/295, 82/215. 
Repaste, sh. refreshment, in sleep, 

137/425. 
Repeale, vh, t, repell, 28/380 ; de- 

peale (or depell), in A. 
Resiste, sh. resistance, 181, note 4. 
Reswarm, vh. t swarm again, 95/86. 
Retrates, vh. retreats, 68/252. 
Retrottes, vh. trots back, 44/345. 
Revell, vh. t. revea], 49/i4, 126/ 

^94. 

Reven, vh. int. riven, rive, split, 103/ 
266. 

Revoltes, sh. revolters, rebels, runa- 
ways, 132/326. 

Re wend, vh, int. retire, go back, 
44/344. 

Ride, vh, int. ride out calme & 
storme, nautical usage, fig., 60/ 
311 ; ride permanent, ride at per- 
manent anchor, IO7/360. 

Rife, adj. rifer, more abundant, 31/ 

.34- 
Right, adj, straight, not squinting, 

33/73. 

Rigor, 64/389, misprinted rigge. 

Rope, sh. like rope and stroke, i. e. 
hanging and beheading, I35/380. 

Roringst, adj. most roaring, or 
noisy, 1 38/445. 

Rother, sh. rudder, 79/159. 

Round, adj. round shott, cannon 
shot, 58/245. 

Round, vh. t. rounded in ear, 42/ 
301, round wordes into his eare, 
42/305, 73/621 ; i. e. whisper into 
(from turning round head) ; after 
roundinge Camball in his eare, 
79/166; Cambuscan rounded Cam- 
balls eare, III/467. 

Rowm, sh. room, 165. note 4 ("rown," 
above). 

Rowne, sh. round, I37/434, 153/321. 

Rowt, sh. rout, disorder, 5O/40. 



Glossary and Index, 



257 



Riiffetes, sh. furzes, furzy land, 
heath, 47/414. 

Rufflinge auster, disturbing, 33/6 1. 

Rundelaye, sh. roundelay, a shep- 
herd's song, sung in a round, 
where each takes his turn, 44/ 
338. 

Salve, vb, t save, forgive, 4O/254 ; 

salvd, pp. 55/185. Late Lat. 

Salvare. 
Sanglamorte, a sword ; == Fr. Sang- 

lante mor% bloody death, 168/ 142. 
Saunce, prep, sans, without, 143/ 

107, 165/82. 
Scatent, adj. abundant, 199, note 3. 

Lat. Bcatens. 
Schene, sh. scene, I55/354 ; scheone, 

134/365. . 
Scope, sh, aim, end, 4. 
Scowt- watch, scout- watch, watching 

the enemy as scouts, 72/619. 
Scyntilles, sh. sparks of dew, 213/ 

83 ; egiet scyntills, sparkling 

sparkles of dew, 48/431. Lat. 

Scintilla. 
Self-gaine-made faction, a faction 

for its own private gain, 21/21 1. 
Selfelie, adv. selfly, of itself, of its 

own nature, 26/317. 
Seminarie, sh. seed-plot, nursery, 

55/166. 
Semster, sh. sempster, 2O/185. 
Sensative, sh. reasoning powers, 15/ 

46. 

Sensive, adj. sensive sparckes, 
sparks of reason, 15, note 15. 

Sensivelie, adv. vsurpinge sensivelie, 
sensual vsurpers, or men who 
claim higher abilities than they 
have, 53, note 4 ; sensually, 96/ 
118. See note below. 

Serra, King Cambuscan's capital, 
51/73, 75/60 ; given as dower to 
Camball, yith Frelissa, 226, mean- 
ing here also the province. 

Set, vh. t. that all at nouum settes, 
on fy ve or nyne, i. e. sets all at 
sixes and sevens, 47/410. 

Setters, sh. setters dare blind bobb 
the peoples pates, false accusers 
dare blindfold the people, 167, 
note 9 ; 166 note 3. 

Shaggbuttes, sh. sackbuts, 20/ 170. 



''An Instrument of Wind Miisick, 

somewhat like a Trumpet." — 

Phillips. 
Sharkers, sh. sharks, swindlers, 166, 

note 3. 
Sharkinge paines, swindling pains, 

50/61 ; sharkinge camilles, 166/ 

108. See Camill. 
Shathe, she hath, 38/185, I72/242. 
Sheavd, shoved, 48, note 1. 
Shelfe, sh. shoal, or ledge of rocks, 

59/261 ; rann the shelfe, ran on 

the shelf, 94/66. 
Shocke, vh. shocke close, charge, 

62/342. 
Shoen, shown, I77/345 ; shoen, 

shone, 228/417. 
ShoUow, adj. shallow, mentally, 

22/228. 
Shootinge, ? shouting, 201, note 

1. 
Shortned by the crown, decapitated, 

95/94. 
Shott, sh. musketeers, IOI/221, 101/ 

231,101/239.^ 
Siders, sh. factionists, party-men, 

21/211. 
Sidney's Arcadia, 200. 
Silverne, adj. made of silver, 101/ 

227. 
Similize, vh. simulate, be like, 21/ 

202. 
Singel, vh. inf. go singly, 62/338. 
Sitch, ?seek, 226/374. 
Skewd, adj. skewed, piebald, 207/ 

323- 
Skie, vh. t. espy, 110, note 1. 
Skonces, sh. blockhouses, III/473: 

a Dutch word. 
Skore, vh. score, mark, 14/19, 1'*^^/ 

367. 
Skowrd, scampered, I8I/424. 
Skowrers, sh. scourers, to clean 

cannon, 58/249, ll'^/49S- 
Skowt-watch, 62/357, 95/91. See 

Scowt-tvatch. 
Skoysd, vh. " Carabuscan skoysd to 

campe in th' aier," galloped fast, 

109/411. Comp. Skise, Halli- 

WELL. 

Slasshinge, pa^^t making slashes, 
129/261. Misprinted stassMnge. 

Siaveringes, sh. slaverings, frothy 
words, 237. 

S 2 



258 



Glossary and Index. 



SleighteSj sh. sleiglits^ contrivances, 

artifices, 53/125. 
Slight, sh. sleight, artifice, 53/124. 
Slipp shooes, sh. with slipp shooes, 

in slipshod way, without donning 

one's armour, 66/441. 
Slogardie, sh. truith without justice 

is slogardie, or sloth, I87/558. 
Smoke, sh. tobacco, 23/238. 
Smoothe worke, make smoothe 

worke of, level with the ground, 

137/433. 
Snaught, vh. t snatched, IO2/262. 
Snib, vh. t. snub, 235/i6. 
Snowe-drivn white, IOI/225. 
Snuff, vh. int. 169, note 2, See 

Huff and snuff. 
Snuff, sh, spent till a snuff, i. e. till 

all the oil was exhausted, 3I/24. 
Snugginge, adj. or part, snug, 73/5. 
So, therefore, 86/334. 
Soke, vh. t. ?suck, I5I/273. 
Soles, sh. white soles, souls of the 

saved, 46, note 3. 
Sommance, sh. (" sumonance/' be- 
low), summons, 200/i86. 
Sones, sh. sounds, 45, note 11. Lat, 

Sooius. 
Sooth, vh. t. vouch for, give as true, 

98/170, and below ; soothinge his 

cause, upholding it, 142/75. 
Sore ment, sore meant, foreshowing 

ill, 176/330. 
Sorrell, adj. sorrel, bay, 2O6/305. 
Sourse, sh. ? spring, rush, attack, 

147/179. 
Sourse deorse, helter skelter, 42/ 

290. Lat. Sursiim deorsum. 
Spaniel, sh. water spanieles, fig.; 

i. e. people who fawn, 16 6/ 107. 
Spatche, vh. t. despatch, kill, 94/6o. 
Speculate, vh. t, examine, view, 85/ 

298 ; observe, IO5/328. 
Spencer, stanzas from his Faerie 

Queene^ 8, 9 ; 234/555. 
Spende, vh. t. ? support, II9/30, 
Spent, jpp. th' tyde was spent, ex- 
hausted, slack, 107/359. 
Spindelles, sh. spindles, 226/363, and 

note. 
Splitters, sh. splinters, 21 6/ 120. 
Sprent, fp. sprinkled, 4O/244. 
Stade, sh. post, l^jc)!. 
Staie, ^j;. stopt, I76/329. 



Standes, sh. stations, II2/503. 
Starcnes, sh. starkness, clearness of 

food, 76/86. 
Startel, vh. int. startle, start, 43/312 ; 

startl, 215, note 1. 
Start- vp, adj. lofty, 139, note 2. 
State-mongers, sh. statesmen, with 

depreciatory meaning, shopmen 

managing state affairs, 45/375. 
Statish, adj. state, public, 152, note 

1 ; 159/453. 
Statizd, a(i;. statized, statish, public, 

159, note 6. 
Statizers, sh. partisans, I28/229. 
Statlinges,s&.petty statesmen, "state 

rattes," A. (confer state-mongers), 

153/308 ; stattlinges, I4I/53. 
Statt, sh. beare the statt, hold the 

sway, 148/216. 
Stead, sh. steed, 45/361 ; steade, 46/ 

383. 
Steare, vh. stir, II2/480, I65/93, 

203/248. 
Stelliferous, adj. starry, 25/285. 
Sterne, sh. star, 126/ 177. Germ. 

Stern. 
Stie, vh. mount, ascend, 45, note 11 ; 

stye, go, 62/344. 
Stied, adj. ("eyed," above), 204, 

note 3. 
Stint, vh. t. contract, 33/74. 
Stocke Fishe, sh. beate- vnto stocke 

Fishe, as Stockfish is beaten to 

make it tender ; beat to a jelly, 

128/240. 
Store, sh. victuales store, store of 

victuals, plenty of them, 58/253 ; 

munition store, plenty of it, 66/ 

445 ; prisoners store, 1 82/451. 
Storify, vh. t. tell of, depict ( " his- 

torify," below), 26/320. 
Stowbornes, sh. stubbornness, ob- 
stinacy, 142, note 5. 
Stowt, vh. int. wave proudly, 99/ 

193. 

Stowtes, sh. ? stoats, 209/383, and 

note. 
Strave, vh. strove, 1 52/292. 
Streaves, vh. strives, 73, Proem. 
Strew, vh. t. he bathe strowen 

abrode, i. e. disseminated, 51/66. 
Strikes, sh. ope and closelie strikes, 

58/246, ? weapons for distant and 

close fighting. 



Glossary and Index. 



259 



Strike, vh. int, soldiers on knees 

down strikes, fall on their knees ; 

comp. "strike a flag," or lower 

it, naut, 6 1/332. 
Strooke in, hastened in, 48/434 : 

with its win<>-s. 
Sublimate, vh. t, make lofty, exalt, 

204/267. Lat. SiibUmare, Bubli- 

matus. 
Subnate, adj. or sh. younger in birth, 

63, note 7. Lat. Suhnatus. 
Subrogate, vh. t. substitute, 65/165. 
Siifflate, vh. t puff up, 63/ 1 10, Lat. 

Sufflare^ Sufflatum. 
Sumonance, sh. summons, 200, 

note 7. 
Supple, vh. t. ? suppled his lookes 

(not hooJces), softened them, 110/ 

437. 
Supranature,s6. supernatural nature, 

162/12. 
Surphetes, sh. surfeits, 32/44. 
Surquedry, sh. pride, presumption, 

32/42, 66/191. 
Surrey, Assyria, 12. 
Susurr, vh. t. whisper, 179 /400. Lat. 

8usi(.rrare. 
Swarthe, sh. swathe, as of hay, 

mefaph., 114, note 7. 
Swashinge, sh. crashing, giving of 

heavy blows, 216, note 1. 
Swettie, adj. sweaty, I37/440. 
Syntilles, sh. sparks, 78/138. See 

Scyntilles. 
Syses, sh. brodclothe syses, assises, 

109/428. 

Tabliture, sh. painting, 174/286. 

Tack, vh. t. tackd sailes, i. e. in 
modern nautical language, tacked, 
went about, put about ship, 106/ 
351 ; tackinge on all sailes (with 
same meaning), note 10, below, 

Tailewise, tail first, 44/345. 

Tantologinge, sh. ? great account, 
having him always on their lips, 
48/8. 

Tapestrye, sh. tapestry, 201 /200. Fr. 
Tapisserie. 

Tarcelet, sh. a male hawk, 57/217; 
tercelet, 67/222 ; tercelettes, 230/ 
446. 

Tassant, adj. tassant plumes, toss- 
ing plumes, 145/152. See Tossant. 



Tatter, vh. int. totter, 123/ii8. 

Taves, sh. kicks, 42, note 9. 

Taylinge,|)ari5. retailing, 236, note 7. 

Teene, adj. deadlie teene ("pale and 
teene," below), I7I/212. 

Temperate, sh. 156, note 6. 

Th', = they, I8/107, 20/i68 ; th', 
= the, 44/349, 44/358 ; th', = 
then, 172/230 ; th'ad, = they had, 
132/318; th'are, == they are, 69/ 
273 ; th'ast, = thou hast, 93/55 ; 
th'ave, = they have, III/471. 

Theataier, sh. theatre, 82/2 16 ; the- 
ater, 291/198. 

Theodore, daughter of Bunthoto, 
king of Ind and Palestine, comes 
to the tourney, 202 ; sings with 
Canace, 220 ; marries Algarsife, 
225. 

Thicke and thin, bullettes flew 
through thicke and thin, every 
where, 101 /240. 

Tho, adv. then, 43/315, 44/349. 

Thotobon, king of Arabic and Ind, 
sends Cambuscan a horse and 
sword of brass, 41 ; he thinks of 
Cambuscan, 176 ; is an optician 
and naturalist, 177 ; he prepares 
an elixir to revivify Cambuscan, 
and restores him to life, 178, 179. 

Thrasonicke, adj. braggart, derived 
from Thraso, a great bragger, 
219, note 6. 

Thrillant, adj. thrilling, 192/666. 

Thrilld, twirled, twisted, 73/2. 

Thro tinge it, shouting out, 96/S7. 

Throughfare dore, passage through, 
24/280. 

Thrunges, sh. squeezers, II2/496. 

Time, sh. thyme, 74/25. 

Tine, vh. t. light up, illuminate, 91, 
note 6. See Tyne. 

Tipp-staves, sh. constables, 2O3/248, 
and below. 

Tipptoa highe, stande tipptoa highe 
for taliste vindication, i. e. make 
the most of oneself, as being vir- 
tuous, 207/342. Tipptoa skold, 
one who scolds to the top of his 
bent, drawing up his scolding- 
powers as if on tiptoe, II6/576. 

Tire, sh. tier of guns, in battery, 138/ 

447. 
Titan, sh. the sun, 3O/425 ; Titan 



260 



Glossary and Index, 



pursd vp all his somms of coyne, 

i. e. his rays, 48/427, 1 77/339. 
Togantillo, an orange tawny knight, 

comes to the tournament, 206 ; is 

killed by Camballo, 218. 
Tonge-plages, sh. tongue-plagues, 

36/159. 

Tonitruous, adj. thundering, 88/247, 
127/208. 

Too and againe, backwards and for- 
wards, 224/324. 

Toot, to it, 90/430, 153/320. 

Tossant, adj. tossant plume, tossing 
plume, 204/267 ; tossant head, 204, 
note 3. 

Tosspott match, at drinking, 22, 
note 1. 

Totall, adj. total, 93/46. 

Tottringlie, adj. in a tottering way, 
to and fro, 96/iio. 

Tourney, or Tournament, given by 
Cambuscan, 202, seqq. 

Towzd and tosst, tumbled and tossed, 
45/365. 

Trace, sh. tracery, 185/5 18. 

Traduce, vh. t. theire sensative tra- 
ducd his seede, ? hand down, 15/ 
46 ; traduce the wille, from own 
wille, to her will, draw over, 33/ 
79 ; sleightes, which f alsaries tra- 
duce, bring down, employ, 53/ 
126. 

Tragedious, adj. tragic, 1 63/34. 

Tralucent, adj. transparent, 6. 

Traluculent, adj. transparent, 6. 

Trampler, sh. a horse that tramples, 
*. e. a horse, 2II/29. 

Trice, sh. thrust, ? a-tiice, 9O/428. 

Trice, sh. with a trice, in a trice, 
44/355, 46/380. 

Trill, vh. t. twirl, twist, turn, 44/ 
.355,47/417,65/415. 

Tripp, vh, int. run lightly, trot off:, 
43/312. 

Trophies, I33/341. 

Tropology, sh. tropes, figurative 
language, 126/ 198. 

Truithes, sh. truths, 56/194. 

Truncharde, sh. user of truncheon, 
tourneyer, jouster, spearman, 210, 
note 3. 

Tyno, vh. t. kindle, 5 ; illuminate, 
91/6 ; love-tyninge, love-kind- 
ling, 7. 



Vmbier, sh, umber, shade for eyes, 
on helmet, 204/26 1. Fr. Omhre. 

Vnchawe his late chawd cud, i. e. 
his spleen, 95, note 9. 

Vndermoine, vh. t undermine, 108/ 

397. 

Vnderstanden, vh. those him vnder- 
standen least hee blesst, those 
that least understand him he 
blessed, 48, note 4. 

Vnfetchd vp, not caught up, not 
overtaken, I8I/430. 

Vniustizd, adj. unjust, or ? unjusti- 
fiable, 53, note 12. 

Vnsecond, vh. t. not to second, or 
aid, 1 64/59. 

Vnsensiue, adj. unperceivable, 174/ 
284, 

Vpmount, vh. t. mount up, on their 
carriages, 11 2/487. 

Vrbanitie, sh. his tassant plume's 
vrbanitie, handsome, polished ap- 
pearance, 145/152. 

Vah, interj. stuif I nonsense I 38/ 

191. 
Yantgard, sh. vanguard, 6I/319. 

Fr. Avantgarde, 
Vaughouse, sh. ? watch -house, 131/ 

303. Dutch Wacht-huis, 
Vaunce, vh. int. advance, 68, note 2. 
Vaunce, vh. t. advance, set in front, 

display, 59/272. 
Veild pikes, vailed, availed, low- 
ered, 6I/331. See D., Avale, 
Velvet spirit, soft spirit, 74/23. 
Vendicate, vh. t. I vendicate into his 

trewe scope and raeaninge, set 

forth in his true intent, 6 ; claim 

experience in our mystery, 152, 

note 1 ; vendicate to singe, claim 

to sing, 220/230. 
Venefies, sh. venefice, magic arts, 

130, note 6. Lat. Veneficium, 
Ver, sh, spring, 74/27. 
Verbe, sh. word, II6/582. 
Vermild, ad,j. vermilioned, blushing, 

139/17 ; vermilld, used of painted 

cheeks, I99/164. 
Versute, adj. crafty, 139/15, 142/73 j 

virsut, 53, note 10 ; versutlie, adv. 

167/128. 
Viand, sh. fiend, enemy, 95/87. 

Germ. Feind, 



Glossary and Index. 



261 



Vibrant, adj, shaking, moving, 84/ 
273 ; vibrant thrusts, vibrating 
backwards and forwards, 127/222 ; 
pikes so vibrant, 129, note 2. 

Vibratinge, jpart i. e. advancing and 
retiring, 147/i 77. 

Viderea, a witch, daughter of Lord 
Homnibone, 22, 33, 34, 53, 66; 
informs Algarsife of his father's 
doings, 92 ,* gives him ill advice, 
97, 98 ; persuades the Fregilians 
to hang a captive, 134 ; is discon- 
tented with Algarsife, 136 ; her 
conspiracy against him, 149 ; her 
plan to seize Cambuscan, 153 ; 
escapes secretly from Fregilia, 
183 ; goes to Cambuscan^s tourna- 
ment, 206 ; enters disguised as 
Cupid, and is imprisoned, 227. 

Void, sh. clearance of table, removal 
of course, I7/91. 

Volant, adj. volant dies (or dyes)^ 
? like shot-silk, 204, note 4. 

Voluntaries, sh, volunteers, as op- 
posed to pressed men, 58/257. 

Volvd, revolvd, in diepe perplexitie, 
i. e, turned, and returned in his 
mind, 40/2 5 7. Lat. Volvere. 

Vulgaritie, sh, commonalty, common 
people, 132/330. 

Vye, vb. t envy, 2O9/375. Fr. 
Envier. 

Wagginge, adj. departing, 192/ 1. 
Wagoner, sh. Northerne Wagoner, 

Charles's wain, 233/539. 
Waie, sh. riddes waie, yieJds passage, 

192/1. 
Ward, sh. midle ward, centre of 

army, centre division, IOO/211. 
Warder, sh. truncheon, 6I/330. 
Warried, vh. execrated, 12. 
Watchet, adj. light blue, 2IO/3. 
Water chaine, or curb bit for horses, 

41, note 12. 
Watercresses, sh, figuratively, of 

trashy poetry, 237. 
Wateringe teeth, i. e. with watering 

mouth (of food that makes the 

mouth water), 186, note 4. 
Waterishlie. adv. of the sun, with 

watery rays, 56/204. 
Waver, vh. t. cause to waver, 96/ 

no. 



Wayd, pp. weighed, or hove up (of 

an anchor); 6O/289. 
Weather, sh. i. e. dirty weather, fig., 

used of hard knocks, 224/321. 
Weele, s6. a basket snare for fish 

(? with pun on ^eele), 38/193. 
Weet, vh. t know, search, I4O/29. 
Weetelie, adv. shrewdly (" dieplie," 

below), 71/590. 
Weft, vh. int, departed, 159, note 6. 
Weft and straier, waif and stray, 

used of a straying horse, 42/296. 
Welder, sh. wielder of power, 53/ 

108. The vh. is used by Spencer. 
Welked, vh. waned, decayed, 149/ 

225. 
Welkinge, adj. waning, decaying, 

149, note 2. 
Wend, vh. int. depart, die, 1 68/40. 
Wheele guns, guns on running car- 
riages, 104/290. 
Whiff, sh. wind of a weapon, slash, 

102/262. 
Whiff, xb. t. make wind with sword, 

slash, 62/347. See WMjf^ sub- 
stantive. 
Whifflinge, adj, unsteady as the 

wind, 199/i6o. 
Whister, vh. whisper, 73, note 3 ; 

111, note 13 ('^rounded," above). 
Wileare, adv. whilere, some time 

ago, 71/585. 
Wimple, vh. t. cover as with wim- 
ple, of clouds, 91, note 6. 
Wind, vh. blow, figuratively, 106/ 

348. 
Windham, Thos., lines to Lane by 

him, 7. 
Winds, Verse to the four Winds, 6 ; 

I smell a LoUer, or Lollard, in the 

winde, 11/ 12. 
Wine, sh. good wine needs no ivy 

(or bush), 7. 
Wispe, sh. "gain the wispe,'' or 

" bear the wispe," as a scold (see 

Shaks. Hen. VI., III. ii. 2), 115/ 

576, and note 8. 
Wownes, as interj. wounds I 96/ 

107. 
Wox tame, waxed, became tame, 

43/307. 
Wracke, sh. ? waste land, 76/89. 
Wreath, vh. t. theire sinewes wreath, 

writhe, twist, distort, 33/74. 



262 



Glossary and Index, 



Wrest, sb. wrist, 21 6/144. 
Wricke, vh.int, ? wriggle, 1 68/147. 
Wringe, vh. pinch, nip, pain, 45/ 

374. 
Writts^ sb. writings, 9. 

Yarck forth, jerk forth, 234/542. 



Yerke, vh. t. irk, 55/i73, II9/33. 

Yernesse, sh. eagerness, fierceness, 
117/599. Comp. Year7i. The 
adj. is used by Chaucer. A.S. 
Georn. Compare next. 

Yirnd, j9j9. stirred, 66, note 1. 

Yond, adj. yon, IOO/202. 



263 



ON" 

THE MAGICAL ELEMENTS 

IN 

WITH ANALOGUES. 
By W. a. CLOUSTON, 

AUTHOR OF * POPULA.R TALES AND FICTIONS : THEIR MIGRATIONS 
AND TRANSFORMATIONS,' ETC. 



264 



Call up him ivlio left half told 
The story of Cambuscan hold., 
Of Camball and of Algarsife, 
And who had Canace to wife, 
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass, 
And of the wondrous horse of brass 
On which the Tartar king did ride. 



265 



PREFATOEY NOTE. 

In all probability the following papers would never have been 
written, but for Dr. Furnivall. While engaged in finishing the 
Chaucer Analogues (so far as we thought it advisable to proceed, in 
the meantime), I was reminded by a note to John Lane's Tom Tell 
Troth's Message, reprinted for the ISTew Shakspere Society, that the 
same worthy had had the hardihood to write a " Continuation " of 
the Squire's Tale, and that it exists in two MSS. of different dates, 
preserved at Oxford. Thinking that John Lane may have worked 
into his *' Continuation " some incidents and episodes from mediaeval 
romances, and perhaps also from popular tales, which might be of 
interest to me, I made inquiry of Dr. Furnivall as to the nature of 
that composition, and asked whether it were practicable for me to 
obtain an outline of it ; at the same time offering, if it were printed 
for the Chaucer Society, to furnish some notes on the Squire's Tale 
itself. In reply ^ Dr. Furnivall said that he felt sure Lane's work 
contained nothing likely to be of use to me in my special line of 
study, but as it would have to be printed for the Society some time, 
it may as well be done at once, and so the transcribing of one of the 
MS. copies was soon afterwards begun. 

The editing and side-noting of the " poem," which I had also 
undertaken. Dr. Furnivall most generously relieved me of, on learn- 
ing that I was then suffering from an affection of the eyes ; and he 
merits our warmest thanks for having performed what must have 
proved to be a dreary and wearisome task with his characteristic 
thoroughness. When Lane's text was all printed off I happened to 
be occupied with some very pressing work, and as I would not offer 



266 Frefatory Note, 

the Society a " scamped '' thing on Chaucer's finest Tale, I desired 
Dr. Furnivall to send it out to the Members, with a promise that my 
dissertation should form, with glossarial index, a second fasciculus, 
which should have been issued last year, had I not been ill for some 
time and burdened with other engagements. 

But the long delay has enabled me to render the notes, &c. mucli 
more comprehensive than I could have done two years ago. I found 
occasional intervals of leisure for hunting after books on magic, 
sorcery, and witchcraft, several of which I have laid under contribu- 
tion in these papers, and the consequence is, that the limit of fifty 
pages originally purposed has been exceeded threefold (and this is 
why what I have written now forms a sort of appendix to Lane in- 
stead of an introduction) j — like Mr. Shandy's treatise on the rearing 
of children, which was to be so small that a lady might carry it in her 
^'housewife/' but it grew and extended, from an octavo to a quarto, 
and from a quarto to a folio — let no man say unto himself, '' I will 
write a duodecimo ! " 

In the course of the following papers I have^ it must be admitted, 

often wandered far from the ''half-told tale of Cambuscan bold," 

which is mainly due to the suggestive nature of the great Master's 

poem. I may mention, however, that, while writing more especially 

for students of Chaucer, I have all along kept in view the interests 

of my brother folk-lorists, by whom also, I venture to hope, the 

varied matter now brought together for the first time, and from 

widely scattered sources, will not be considered as altogether 

valueless. 

W. A. Clouston. 

Glasgow, July^ 1890. 



267 



CONTENTS. 



I. 



INTRODUCTORY 

OUTLINE OP THE SQUIRE'S TALE 
KNIGHTS RIDING INTO HALLS 
MAGIC HORSES, CHARIOTS, ETC. 
MAGIC MIRRORS AND IMAGES 
MAGIC RINGS AND GRMS 
LANGUAGE OP ANIMALS 
MAGIC SWORDS AND SPEARS ... 



PAGE 

269 
270 
276 
279 
299 
334 
348 
372 



II. 

INTRODUCTORY 

ROMANCE OP CLEOMADES AND CLAREMONDE ... 

VALENTINE AND ORSON ... 

REYNARD THE FOX 

CLEOMADES AND THE SQUIRE^ S TALE 
ARABIAN TALE OP THE EBONY HORSE 
TURKISH VARIANT 

ARABIAN TALE OP THE PLYING CHAIR 
PERSIAN TALE OP THE PLYING CHEST 
PERSIAN TALE OP THE WEAVER AS THE ANGEL GABRIEL 



382 

385 

40e5 

408 
409 
413 
416 
418 
421 
426 



268 



Contents. 



HINDU PROTOTYPE : THE WEAVER AS THE DEITY VISHNU 

ANOTHER HINDU TALE OF A MAN AS VISHNU 

GIPSY VERSION : THE WOODEN BIRD 

ANOTHER GIPSY TALE : THE MAGIC WINGS . , . 

MODERN GREEK VARIANT : THE GOLDEN STEED 

LATIN TALE OF A KNIGHT AS THE DEITY ANUBIS 

ITALIAN TALE OF THE FRIAR AS AN ANGEL 

OLD ENGLISH VERSION 

CONCLUSION : ANALOGUES COMPARED 

DR. BRANDL ON THE SQUIRe's TALE 
ADDITIONAL NOTES : 

Magic Horses ... 

Magic Eings 

Language of Animals ... 

Eomance of ' Cleoniades ' 

* The Flying Chest ' — Greek Version 

^The ■Wooden Bird' 

'The Golden-Steed '—Sequel 

INDEX 



PAP.E 

428 
436 
440 
442 
445 
450 
452 
454 
458 
460 

463 
464 
465 
466 
467 
468 
468 
472 



269 



ON ^I'HE MAGICAL ELEMENTS IN CHAUCER'S 
"SQUIRE'S TALE," WITH ANALOGUES. 



FOE any one to speak, even casually, of the Squire's Tale of 
Cliaucer without citing Milton's hackneyed lines, which occur 
in one of his early effusions, II Penseroso, to wit, wherein he refers to 

the wondrous Horse of Brass, 
On which the Tartar king did ride, 

(yet he didn't, so far as the story goes,) w^ould he as unusual as for 
a country newspaper reporter, in describing a dance, to omit the well- 
worn phrase, from another of Milton's juvenile poems, VAlIegro, 
**on the light fantastic toe"! Of all Chaucer's Canterhury Tales, 
that which he puts into the mouth of the gallant young Squire 
appears to have been the prime favourite of both Spenser and 
Milton ; and ^* certes there is for it reason great." It contains such 
romantic elements — or rather suggestions of such — as must fascinate 
the minds of readers possessed of the smallest degree of imagination 
or fancy. Moreover, it tantalizingly breaks ofE with mere hints of 
the stirring chivalric adventures which were to follow, but never did 
— unfortunately for us ; but not so, perhaps, did honest John Lane 
secretly think, so far as he was concerned. ^ 

The Squire does not put off time with any wordy preamble, to 
indicate to his fellow-pilgrims the nature of his tale, but boldly 

1 Alas for the fond aspirations of poetasters, who mistal^e the clitter-clatter 
and dull, tame limping of their spavined jade for the flight of Pegasus ! With 
infinite labour and much weariness of the flesh, doubtless, did John Lane com- 
pose his "Continuation " of what he terms *' Chaucer's Pillar," yet it remained 
buried in its *' native" MS. for two centuries and a half, and is now vouch- 
safed the honours of printer's types rather because it is a literary curiosity than 
from its intrinsic merits. 



270 



Magical Elements in the Squire's, Tale. 



plunges right into it, like our old fairy story-tellers, who began : 
" There once lived a poor old woman," or '' Once upon a time there 
was a poor old man who was a woodcutter." He starts straight off, 

thus : 

At Sarray, in the lond of Tartary, 

Ther dwelled a kyng that werryed Kussy, 

and on he goes, like a man who means business, and this is the 

fiitlme of tfje ^qiure'g fele. 

There was once a King of Tartary, named Cambyusk4n,i who 
dwelt in the city of Sarra^— a king of great renow^n, brave, wise, 
rich, merciful, and just. His queen was called Eltheta, and they 
had two gallant sons, Algarsif and Camballo, also a fair and gentle 
daughter, hight Canacc. JSTow it so befel that when this noble 
King Cambyuskan had ruled some twenty years, he caused, as was 
his wont, a great feast to be proclaimed throughout the city, in cele- 
bration of his birthday, and magnificent was the royal festival. 
After the third course, while the King with his family sate in high 
state, surrounded by his nobles, listening to the minstrels, behold — 

In atte halle dore, al sode3^nly, 
There com a knight upon a steed of bras, 
And in his hond a brod myrour of glas ; 
Upon his thumb he had of gold a ryng,^ 
And by his side a naked swerd hangyng ; 
And up he rideth to the hej'glie bord. 

1 Colonel Henry Yule, in his excellent edition of Marco Polo's Travels, vol. 
i. p. 218, says : '' Before parting with Chengis, let me point out, what has not, 
to my knowledge, been suggested before, that the name of ' Carnhnscan bold ' 
in Chaucer's Tale is only a corruption of the name of Chingiz [-Kiian]. The 
name of the conqueror appears in Fr. Ricold as Camiiiscany from which the 
transition to Cambuscari presents no difficulty. Camius was, I suppose, a 
clerical corruption of Canjus, or Ciayijus, In the Chronicle of 8t. Antonius, 
however, we have him called * Chingiscaii reotlvs Tamgius Cam ' (xix. c. 8). 
If this is not merely the usual blunder of t for c, it presents a curious analogy 
to the form of Tanhiz Khan, always used by Ibn Batuta. I do not know the 
origin of the latter, unless it was suggested by tauMs (Ar.), 'turning upside 
down/ (See Pereg. Quat. p. 119 ; ih. iii. 22, etc.)" 

2 According to Marco Polo, Barcha^ the khan of Western Tartary (Kip- 
chak) had two cities named Bolgosa and Assara (Sarya), the former being his 
summer and the latter his winter residence. 

2 Signet- rings were often worn on the thumb by dignitaries in former 
times. Falstaff declares that in his early youth he "could have crept into 
any alderman's thumb-ring " (1 Henry 1 K, ii. 4). 



Outline of the Tale, 271 

Saluting tlie King, and the Queen, and all the lords, with a grace 
equal to that of the gentle Sir Gawain, this stranger knight fortli- 
•with delivered his message in eloquent language, saying that the 
King of Arahia and India sends him greeting, and, in honour of this 
solemn festival, presents him with : (1) this Horse of Brass, which 
can bear him, within the space of twenty-four hours, wheresoever he 
should please to go, or soar into the air as high as the eagle, and all 
without danger ; — he was a wise man who made this wonderful steed 
by his magic art ; (2) this Mirror, wliich has the property of dis- 
closing coming adversity and treachery, and of showing whether a 
lover be false or true ; (3) this Ring, which, if worn on the thumb 
or carried in one's purse, has the virtue of bestowing on its possessor 
a knowledge of the language af birds and the nature of every kind of 
plant which can heal the most desperate wounds (the Mirror and the 
Eing are for the beauteous lady Canac^) ; and (4) this Sword, which 
can cut through the stoutest armour, and he who is wounded there- 
with may be healed only by his wound being stroked with the flat of 
the same blade. 

When the Knight had thus delivered his message he rode out of 
the ban que ting-hall, and, alighting from the brazen steed, he was 
straightway conducted to a private chamber, and, having been 
divested of his armour, food was set before him. Meanwhile the 
Sword and the Mirror were deposited in a high tower, and officers 
appointed to guard these invaluable treasures. The Eing was then 
presented to Canac6 with all due ceremony. But the Horse of Brass 
stood immovable, and great was the crowd that came to gaze upon it, 
for it was so high, and broad, and long, as if it were a steed of Lom- 
bardy, and so quick of eye, as if it were a courser of Apulia ; and 
all thought that neither nature nor art could improve upon it ; and 
yet they marvelled how a horse of brass could rapidly course through 
the air — it must have come from Fairyland. One opined that it was 
like Pegasus ; another compared it to the Horse of Troy ; and yet 
another said that it must have been made by magic art, as we read of 
like wondrous things in many gestes. Then they wondered at the 
Mirror and the Sword : some said there was once in Eome such a 
mirror, and the sword they compared to the spear of Achilles, that 



272 Magical Elements in the Sgicire's Tale. 

could both heal and wound ; and then at Canace's Eing — surely never 
before was heard of such a crafty contrivance, unless it were the 
achievements of Moses and King Solomon, who were famous for their 
magic rings. 

Thus were the people talking when the King rose from the table, 
and, preceded by a band of minstrels, went out of the hall. When 
he was seated on his throne, the stranger Knight was brought into 
his presence, and there followed dance, and mirth, and jollity — the 
stranger Knight dancing most gracefully with the lady Canace.^ 
After regaling with richly spiced whie, the noble company proceeded 
to the temple, as was fitting, whence, service concluded, they went to 
supper, and then the King desired the Knight to acquaint him with 
the manner of guiding the Horse of Brass. The Knight had no 
sooner laid his hand upon the bridle than the Horse began to caper 
and prance, and then, quoth the Knight : '' Sire, it is very simple. 
Whenever you wish to ride anywhere, all you have to do is to turn a 
pin which is fixed in his ear, tell him whore you wish to go, and 
when you have reached the place, turn another pin, and he will 
immediately descend on the spot and stand still. '^ When the King 
heard this he was full blithe, I ween, and, ordering the bridle to be 
taten into the tower where his treasures were kept, the assembly 
returned to the hall, where they continued their revels until day 
began to dawn.^ 

1 It was doubtless natural for Chaucer to represent the Indian Knight as 
dancing with the fair Ganaoe ; but such a practice seems never to have been 
in vogue in the East, from the most remote times of which we have any 
knowledge. In India, Persia, Turkey, Egypt, etc., the '* lords of creation " 
hire professional dancing girls to exhibit their terpsichorean skill and agility, 
while they themselves sit placidly looking on ; and none of our European 
social customs more astonishes a "grave and otiose" Asiatic than his seeing 
for the first time a number of men violently exerting themselves in hopping 
and whirling about, each with a woman clasped in his arms. 

2 Evidentl}^ the magical power of causing the Horse of Brass to move lay 
in the bridle, although when the steed was in mid-air it was guided by means 
of pins, since we are told that when the Indian Knight grasped the bridle the 
hitherto immovable horse began to prance. The King was doubtless informed 
by the ambassador of the virtue of the bridle, and hence the precaution he 
adopted for its safety.' — A bridle plays an important part in many stories of 
magical metamorphoses, such as, for example, in several of the tales belonging 
to what is known as the " Magical Conflict " cycle, where the young hero tells 
his father that he intends to transform himself into a horse, and " do vou then 



Oiiiline of the Tale, 273 

The lady Canace had retired early to rest, and, dreaming of her 
magic Ring and Mirror, awoke after her first sleep, and having 
roused half a dozen of her attendants went forth with them into 
the park, where, by virtue of her Eing, she imderstood the song of 
every bird. Presently she came to a tree on which sat a peregrine 
falcon lamenting most piteously, till all the wood resounded with 
her cries ; and so desperately had she beaten herself with her wings 
that the red blood streamed down the tree. Canac^, with the Eing 
on her finger, not only understood what any bird might say in its 
song, but could answer in the same language. So she asked the 
peregrine what was the cause of her bitter sorrow. Was it death or 
love ^ — for assuredly these two cause a gentle heart the greatest woe. 
" Come down from the tree, and tell me your story, and, by God's 
help, I will amend your sad case, if it be possible." The poor pere- 
grine, thus encouraged, dropped into Canace's lap, and told the gentle 
lady how she had been wooed by a tercelet,^ who, by the most 
specious promises of fidelity, had won her heart, and after they had 
lived together about two years the false tercelet went off one day, 

sell me for a round sum of money, only take care not to part with the bridle, 
for should you do so, I caimot come back " — that is to say, he would not be 
able to re-assume his own proper form. (See the chapter on *• Magical Trans- 
formations" in my Popular Tales and Mat Urns, vol. i. p. 415 ff.) 

John Lane, in his Oontmuation, describes the bridle of the Horse of Brass 
in his usual prosaic manner, as though it were meant for the guidance and 
control of a steed of flesh and blood, not of one cunningly contrived by 
magic art : 

Plaine was the bridle, of well ta-nd leather hunger, 
Buckled, to lett longe, short, not o're or vnder ; 
The bitt, a cauon bytt, of surest stuff, 
Able to tame the wildest colt in proof. 
Howbeet so pleasauut, after some while worne, 
As with glad cheere and ease mote well bee borne. 
Which held the curb, or water chaine so nye. 
As coold checke stumblinge, and teach remedy. 

(P. 41, II. 271—278.) 
Most assuredly — and most unhappily — John Lane was 7iot " one whom the gods 
had made poetical" ! And he becomes even more absurd when he goes on to 
describe the King's first trial of the Horse of Brass, which, according to him, 
did not require to be moved by the magic power of the bridle, for it came 
through the air as Cambuscan and Canace Avere walking amid the daisies and 
violets, and descending, of its own accord, stood before them as still' as any 
stone, and so remained until the bridle was put on — a piece of inconsistency 
eminently characteristic of the ambitious poetaster I 

1 The tercelet is the male of the peregrine falcon, and, unlike the males of 
most other species of animals, is smaller and less courageous than the female. 

T 2 



274 Magical Elements in the Sqtdre's Tale. 

and liad never returned, for lie had taken up with a mere kite.i 
The fair lady Canace was touched to the heart by this sad recital, 
and, carrying the poor forsaken peregrine home in her lap, salved 
her self-inflicted wounds with balsamic herbs, and caused a mew^ for 
her to be made at her bed's head, covered with blue velvet, in token 
of female constancy, and the outside was painted green, with repre- 
sentations of all kinds of false male birds. ^ 

Having proceeded thus far in his recital, the '^gentil squyere" 
goes on to say : 

Thus lete I Canace Mr hauk kepyiig. 
I wil nomore now speken of hir rynge, 
Til it come eft to purpos for to seyn, 
How that this faukon gat hir love ageyn, 
Kepentaunt, as the story telleth us, 
By mediacioun of Camballus 
The kinges sone, of which that I yow tolde ; 
But hennesforth I wil my proces holde 
To speken of aveutures, and of batailes, 
That yit was never herd so grete mervailes.. 
First wil I telle yow of Cambyuskan, 
That in his time many a cite wan ; 
And after wil I speke of Algarsif, 
How that he wan Theodora to wif, 
For whom ful of te in grete peril he was, 
Ne had he ben holpen by the hors of bras. 
And after wil I speke of Camballo, 
That fought in listes with the bretheren tuo 
For Canace, er that he might hir wyniie, 
And ther I left I wol ageyn beginne. 

1 The peregrine says : 

" Though he were gentil born, and fresh, and ga}^, 
And goodly for to see, and humble, and free, 
He saw upon a time a kite fle, 
And sodeynly he loved this kite soo, 
That al his love is clene fro me goo ; 
And hath his trouthe falsed in this wise." 

The kite is a cowardly kind of hawk, quite unfit for sport, and hence con- 
sidered as the emblem of everything base, as the falcon was the emblem of 
royalty, in those times when falconry was so much in vogue. 

^ A mew was the technical name for the place where hawks were kept to 
mew, or moult, in. 

2 Blue was the colour of truth,, and green of inconstancy; hence in 
Chaucer's Ballade on an Inconstant Lady — 

'' Instede of blewe, thus may ye were al grene." 



Outline of the Tale, 275 

In tliG Lansdowne MS. these lines are added, by way of conclusion 

to the foregoing : 

Bot I wil here now make a kiiotte 
To the time it come next to my lotte ; 
For here be f el awes behinde an hepe treulye, 
That wolde talke ful besilye, 
And have her^ sporte as wele as I, 
And the dale passeth fast certanly. 
Therefore, oste, taketh nowe goode heede 
Who schalle next telle, and late him spede. 

But the " half told tale of Cambuscan bold " was never finished. 
In all likelihood Chaucer reserved the remaining part, of which he 
sketches the cliief incidents at the end of ' Fm^s Secunda, as above 
cited — the very tale itself, in fact, for what we have is merely intro- 
ductory — for the Squire to relate on the return journey : the jolly 
host of the * Tabard ' having conditioned that each pilgrim should 
tell ttvo tales, one on the road to Canterbury, and one on the way 
home. Had the poet completed his design, the Qanterhury Tales 
would have formed a bulky volume. That no Second Tales were 
ever written by him is probable to the verge of certainty, since a 
number of the pilgrims so graphically described in the Prologue are 
not assigned Tales. ^ This vexatiously incomplete state of the Canter- 
hury Tales induced an obscure monk (as the writer appears to have 
been), in the 15th century, to compose The Tale of Beryn — based 
upon the first part of the old French romance, UHistoire du Chevalier 
Berinus, etc. — as the Merchant's Second Tale, with a Prologue, 
recounting " a Merry Adventure of the Pardoner with a Tapster at 
Canterbury," which are found only in a unique MS. now in the 
possession of the Duke of l!^orthumberland, and were first printed in 
Urry's edition of Chaucer's "Works, published in 1721, and re-edited, 
by P. J. Purnivall and W. G. Stone, for the Chaucer Society, in 

1 i. e. their. 

2 The Prioress' Chaplain, the Haberdasher, the Carpenter, the Weaver, 
the Dyer, the Tapister, and the Host. The Canon Yeoman has a Tale, but no 
character in the general Prologue. — Warton (Hist, of English Poetry) con- 
siders Chaucer's plan of making the pilgrims relate stories on the road to 
Canterbury as greatly superior to that of Boccaccio in his Decameron, This 
may be so, yet it is not easy to understand how some thirty persons on horse- 
back could all hear the Tales, even if they ambled along the road. 



276 Magical JMements in the Squires Tale. 

1876.^ Whetlier tlie monkish continiiator of Chaucer purposed 
writing second tales for the other pilgrims who told each a story on 
the road to Canterbury, it is impossible to say. Perhaps he did, and 
was overtaken by death before he could proceed farther with his self- 
imposed task. Ee this as it may, the Tale of Beryn is well told, 
while the Prologue is, as Dr. Furnivall remarks in his ' Forewords ' 
to the reprint, " a good bit of the Master's humour and life-likeness, 
and Chaucer's characters are well kept up." Two hundred years 
passed away before any other writer w^as found bold enough to 
farther supplement the Canterhury Tales, in 'the form of a terribly 
long-winded '* Continuation" of the Squinh Tale, which is printed 
for the hrst time in the present volume, and which, sooth to say, is 
about as like the Master's charming style as-— chalk is to cheese! 
Still, it possesses some interest of its own, though altogether clumsily 
contrived ; and, after all, John Lane, like the man in the play, " did 
it with the best intentions." And when "sequels" by the authors 
themselves are notoriously disappointing, what could be expected of 
a sequel to a tale by Dan Chaucer, even if written by a much more 
able man than John Lane, in whose "poem" the imaginative faculty 
is conspicuous by its absence, the language is heavy and cumbrous, 
and the rhythm and rhyme are often simply atrocious % 

The magical elements in the Squire'' s Tale constitute its great 
attraction, for they are suggestive of marvellous adventures and 
exploits that might have been performed with such powerful aids — ■ 
rendering time and distance of no account, and overcoming the most 
formidable obstacles. Before treating of these magical elements, I 
take leave to offer a few examples of the mediaeval custom of 

Knights riding into Banqueting Halls, 
as did the Indian ambassador to King Cambyuskan : 

That so bifelle after the thridde cours, 
Whil that this kyrig sit thus in his nobleye, 

1 In 1887-8 a second part was issued to Members, comprising, as an 
appendix, " The Merchant and the Eogues," Euglisli abstract of the French 
original and Asiatic versions of the Tale of Beryn^ by W. A. Clouston ; also 
Forewords, by Dr. Furnivall ; illustrative Notes, by F. J. Vipan and Prof. 
Skeat ; and Glossarial Index, by W. G. Stone, thus completing the volume. 



Outline of the Tale, 277 

Herkyng his niynstrales her^ thinges pley 
Byforne him atte boord deliciouslj^, 
In atte hall dore al sodeynly 
Ther com a knight upon a steed of bras, 



And up he rideth to the heyghe hard. 

The halls of the early Norman kings and barons were lofty 

enough to allow a monnted kniglit with his spear pointed upwards 

to ride through, and such a custom is frequently mentioned in 

romances of chivahy. Thus, in the romance of Sir Perceval of 

GalleSj originally composed by Chretien de Troyes and others, we 

read that the hero, mounted on a mare — 

He come there the kyng was 
Servede of the first mese, 
To hym was the maste has 

That the childe hade ;2 
And thare made he no lett^ 
At ^ate, dore, ne wykett, 
Bot in graythely* he gett, 

Syche maistres he made !^ 
At his first in comynge, 
His mere withowttene faylynge 
Kyste the forheved^ of the kynge, 

So nerehande he rade ! "^ 

So, too, in the ballad of King Estemere — 

King Estemere he stabled his steede 
Soe fayre att the hall bord ; 
The froth that came from his brydle bitte 
Light on King Bremor's beard. ^ 

And in the romance of Sir Degrevant, the hero arrives at the castle 

of Dake Betyse — 

And rydes up to the des,^ 

As thei were servid of here^^ mes, 

To mayd BIyldor he ches,^^ 

And chalangys that f re ! ^^ 

Again, in the tale of * The Lady of the Fountain ' we read that " as 

Oswain sat one day at meat in the city of Caerllen upon Usk, behold, 

1 Her = their. 2 To him the Child made the most haste that he could. 

3 Difficulty. * Beadily ; freely. 

^ Such a masterful manner had he. ^ Forehead. 

7 Thornton JRomaowes, edited, for the Camden Society, by J. 0. Halliwell, 
1844, 11. 485—495. 

s Pcrey Folio 3IS., edited by Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii., p. 605, ool. 2. 

^ The dais was a sort of platform elevated a foot or two above the floor 
of a banqueting-hall. ^^ Their. 11 Chose. 

12 Maiden. — Thornton Eommices, p. 227, 1. 1201-4. 



278 Magical Elements in the Sqidres Tale, 

a damsel entered upon a bay horse, with a curling mane, and covered 
with foam, and the bridle and so much as was seen of the saddle 
were of gold."^ 

Stow, in his Survey of London (first published in 1598), relates : 
'*In the year 1316 Edward II. did solemnize the feast of Pentecost 
at Westminster, in the great hall; where sitting royally at table 
with his peers about him, there entered a woman adorned like a 
minstrel, sitting on a great horse, trapped as minstrels then used, who 
rode round about the tables, showing pastime, and at length came 
up to the king's table, and laid before him a letter, and forthwith 
turning her horse, saluted every one, and departed. "^ According to 
Percy, the letter was found to contain some severe reflections on the 
king's conduct, which greatly angered him ; and the woman, being 
arrested by his command, discovered the author of the letter, who 
acknowledged the offence and was. pardoned. But the doorkeeper, 
being reprimanded on account of her admission, excused himself by 
declaring that it had never been customary to prevent the entry of 
minstrels and persons in disguise ments, on the supposition that they 
came for the entertainment of the king. This- woman had probably 
assumed the habit of a man; and a. female was chosen on this 
occasion, in Percy's opinion, in order that, in the event of detection, 
her sex might plead for her and disarm the king's resentment. 

A very singular incident occurred at the coronation of William 
and Mary. The Champion of England, dressed in armour of com- 
plete and glittering steel, riding on a horse richly caparisoned, entered 
Westminster Hall, while the ILing and Queen were at dinner. On 
giving the usual challenge to any who disputed their Majesties' right 
to the throne of England, after he had flung his gauntlet on the 
pavement, an old woman, who entered the hall on crutches, took it 
up and made off with great celerity, forgetting her crutches, and 
leaving her own glove, with a challenge in it, to meet her the next 
day at an appointed hour in Hyde Park. It is said that a person in 
the same dress appeared in the park the next day, but the Champion 
of England remained quietly at home, declining a contest of such a 

1 Lady Charlotte Guest's ITaHndgion, No. 21. 

2 W. J. Thorns' ed. of Stow's Survey, 1842, p. 173, col. 2. 



Magic Horses, Chariots, &c. 279 

nature with one of the fair sex, though it was generally supposed to 
be some enthusiastic Jacobite in disguise. 

The custom of the " Champion " riding into Westminster Hall 
during the coronation festival, and throwing down his gauntlet in 
defiance to any gainsay ers of the new king's right to the crown, was, 
most absvirdly, observed so late as the coronation of George IV., Sir 
Henry Dymoke being ^* Hereditary Champion of England," when 
that functionary had the high honour to drink the king's health out 
of a golden cup — the cup being always the fee. The facetious Tom 
Hood, among his droll Odes and Addresses to Great Men, has some 
humorous verses addressed to the " Champion," beginning : 

Mr. Dymoke ! Sir Knight ! if I may be so bold^ — 

(I'm a poor simple gentleman just come to town) 
Is your armour put by, like a sheep in the fold ? 

Is your gauntlet ta'en up that you lately flung down? 
Are you — who that day rode so mailed and admired — 

Now sitting at ease in your library chair? 
Have you sent back to Astley the war-horse you hired, 

With a cheque upon Chambers to settle the fare ? 



Papc Parser, Cljariote, ^u 

It is a marked characteristic of fairy tales that the heroes, in 
their encounters with formidable giants and monsters, are compen- 
sated for their physical shortcomings by the possession of superior 
cunning and of certain magical objects which furnish an unlimited 
supply of food, render them invisible, enable them to overcome all 
antagonists, and to transport themselves at will to distant regions in 
the briefest conceivable — or inconceivable — space of time. Of the 
last kind of such objects by far the most common in the popular 
fictions of all countries are shoes which conveyed the wearer " a mile 
faster than the wind " ; nay more, *' from one end of the world to the 
other in the twinkling of an eye " ; and, still more wonderful, he 
might " travel a joiu'ney of a hundred years without being weary, and 
the distance traversed would seem but a hundred steps." Such was 
the kind of shoes which the renowned Jack received from the three- 
headed giant, and of those with which Loke escaped from hell ; and 
similarly endowed sandals, slippers, shoes, boots, and wooden clogs 



280 Magical Elemients in the Sqtdre's Tale. 

were also worn by the heroes of countless Asiatic and European tales 
and romances. Fortunatns had his wishing-cap ; the " Voleur Aviso," 
in the Breton tale, had his cloak ; and the fakir, in the Hindu tale, 
his bed ; each possessing the like virtue. But the most remarkable 
'^ shoes of swiftness " were those we read of in an Icelandic story, 
which the heroine, by direction of an obliging giant, made from the 
soles of her feet, flayed off by herself for this purpose, and which 
took her speedily through the air and over the water, as she pleased. 

N'ext to " shoes of swiftness " occur most frequently in popular 
fictions Magic Horses, which are of two kinds : those constructed of 
wood or metal, and those which are supposed to be of flesh and blood, 
but have been " enchanted," and sometimes a steed of this second 
kind proves to be a gallant young prince, thus transformed by art 
magic ; sometimes it is a "demon horse," which is usually the offspring 
of an ordinary mare and a stallion that periodically comes out of 
the sea. 

The folk-lore of the Horse has not jet, I think, been treated 
exhaustively, though much has been said on the subject by Grimm 
and other comparative mythologists. In romantic fiction a hero is 
always provided with a charger endowed with extraordinary qualities ; 
having almost human intelligence and indomitable courage ; fre- 
quently fighting for his master, by tearing foes with his teeth and 
crushing tbem under foot. Abjer, the famous steed of the Arabian 
poet-hero Antar, was able, his master asserts in some of his spirited 
verses, to do everything but speak ; and other warriors are represented 
as holding conversations with their chargers. 

But we are chiefly concerned at present with such Magic Horses 
as that presented to Cambyuskdn by the Indian ambassador, >vho 
thus describes its qualities : 

" This steede of bras, that esily and wel 
Can in the space of 6 day naturel 
(This is to say, in four and twenty houres), 
Wher so yow lust, in droughthe or in schoures, 
Beren your body into every place. 
To which your herte wilneth for to pace, 
Withouten wem ^ of you, thurgh foul and fair. 
Or if you lust to flee as heigh in th' air 

1 Wem = harm. 



Magic Horses, Chariots ^ &c. 281 

As doth an egle, whan him list to sore. 
This same steede schal here yoo evei-more 
Withoute harm, til ye he ther yow leste 
(Though that ye slepen on his hak or reste), 
And tome agein, with wrything of a pyn." 

We slial], presently, meet with very similar steeds, but the Horse of 
Brass is unique, inasniucli as the rider has not only to " trille a pin, 
stant in his ere," in order to cause him to ascend into the air, as is 
the case of other magic horses that figure in romantic fictions, but he 
must also tell the steed to " what countre he lust for to ryde," and 
having reached the place, " bid hym descende," and " trille another 
pyn." Surely here was the perfection of magical skill, to endow a 
horse of brass with " a hearing ear and an understanding heart " ! 

In offering some notes on magic horses, chariots, and other won- 
drously contrived conveyances, it is perhaps. but right and proper 
that preference should be given to our own country, though there 
may be but a single example, which is found in Leland's Itinerary, 
as follows: ''The commune Fame is in Rut'lielandesliire that there 
was one Rutter, a man of great Favor with his Prince, that desir'd 
to have of Eewarde of hym as much Land as he could ryde over in a 
Day upon a Horse of Woodde, and that he ridde over as much as 
now is Riithelandshire by Arte Magike, and that he was after 
swalowid into the Yerthe/'^ 

Such is commonly the fate of practitioners of the Black Art — the 
Devil seldom fails to claim his due ! In more recent times than 
those of Eutter, the celebrated Polish wizard Towardowski, regarding 
whom many strange tales are still current, made a wooden horse and 
painted it handsomely, and it carried him through the air wheresoever 
he pleased. His end was quite as exemplary as that of our English 
wizard, for wdien his " time" came the Devil forthwith whisked him 
off, via the chimney ! 

From Europe to India is not such " a far cry " as it was but a 
few years since, so we may as well proceed thither at once, for another 
example of a magic horse of wood. In the fairy romance entitled 

1 The Itinerary of John Leland, Published from the original MS. in the 
Bodleian Library, by Thomas Hearue, M.A. Second edition. Oxford, 1744,, 
vol. vi. p. 61. 



282 Magical Ele'mcnts in the Squires Tale, 

Badr-i-Maniv , wliich is an abstract in Panjdbi verse of the well- 
known work of the same name, written, in Urdii, by Mir Hasan, we 
have a similar contrivance : 

A certain Indian king in his old age begat a very handsome son, 
who was called Benazir. One night, when he was fifteen years old, 
the fairy Mahrukh happened to pass the palace in which he was 
sleeping, and, falling in love with him, carried him off on her flying 
throne to Fairyland (Parsistan). Benazir, however, so pined for his 
home that no kindness on the part of his captor was of any avail, so 
she gave him a flying horse of wood on which to visit the earth. As 
the horse could travel a hundred miles in a few minutes, he was to 
return to her every day, and was especially warned against falling in 
love. Onh day, in the course of his flying visits, he met with Badr-i- 
Mani'r, and, as a result, u&ed to visit her daily. This was duly reported 
to Mahrukh by a demon, and she became very angry, and shut him 
up in a well on which she put a stone weighing four tons (100 mans). 
The cessation of Benazir's visits caused great grief to Badr-i-Manir, 
and so she confided her love to the prime minister's daughter, who 
went in search of the truant lover, disguised as a female ascetic 
(jogin). One day as the pretended ascetic was employed in playing 
on her pipe (Mn), Firuz Shah, the king of the fairies, passed over her 
on his flying throne, and, becoming enamoured of her, carried her off 
to Parsistan, where she explained to him her story, and promised to 
marry him if he would release Benazir. Firiiz Sh^h soon discovered 
Benazir and restored him to his beloved Badr-i-Manir, and all ends 
happily with the safe return of Benazir to his parents and the union 
of the lovers. 1 

Another Panjabi tale, entitled Panjphuldn (Five Flowers), is to 
this purpose : 

A merchant of Bukhdrd named 'Aziz had a very handsome wife, 
and while she was pregnant he took her with him on a voyage to 
Constantinople. The ship was wrecked, and every one was drowned 
excepting the pregnant woman, who escaped on a plank. She gave 
birth to Prince Shami on the plank, but was soon afterwards drowned. 

^ From an excellent paper on " The Bibliography of [Indian] Folk-Lore," 
by Captain R. C. Temple, in the Folh-Lore Journal^ 1886, vol. iv. p. 301. 



Magic Horses, Chariots, &c, 283 

The infant, however, floated to Constantinople, where he was taken 
to the sultan and adopted by him. When he was fifteen years old 
[generally a fatal age for love affairs — in stories] a fairy carried him 
off, but allowed him to wander the earth on a winged horse. One 
day he thus met Princess PanjphuMn of Persia, and they were 
married. After this he returned to Constantinople and lived there 
for the rest of his days.^ 

In the eighth recital of the Indian sfcory-book, SinJidsana Dwatrin- 
sati, or Thirty-two [Tales] of a Throne, a carpenter presents the raja 
Yikramaditya, with a magic horse, constructed by himself ; it was in 
form " somewhat like a hippopotamus " (and why so, it does not 
appear), and required neither food nor water; and it would carry 
the r4j4 anywhere, but must on no account be whipped or spurred. ^ 
One day the r4jd mounted this horse, and forgetting the carpenter's 
warning, began to flog it, whereupon it scoured off, rose high into the 
air, crossed the sea, and, slipping from beneath him, dropped the rdj4 
on the ground, and vanished. What farther adventures the rdjd may 
have had is no concern of ours at present — so we shall leave him 
where the magic horse dropped him. 

Sometimes it seems doubtful whether a magic horse in an 
Eastern tale is of wood or metal, or an " enchanted " flesh-and-blood 
steed, as, for instance, in the familiar Arabian tale of the Third 
Kalandar : After accidentally killing the predestined youth in the 
underground place, he walked about the island, and crossing at low 
tide reached a palace overlaid with plates of copper, and on entering, 
discovered an old shaykh and ten young men, all blind of one eye. 
He asks the cause of such a strange mutilation, and they advise 
him to remain in ignorance, but on his insisting, they tell him he 
will learn all about it at a certain place. He is determined to go 
thither. " Then they all arose, and taking a ram slaughtered and 

1 Capt. R. C. Temple, oj), cit., p. 306. 

2 In Lai Bahari Day's Folk-Tales of Bengal (*' Story of a Hiraman," a 
species of Parrot), p. 215, the hero gains his ends by the help of a horse of the 
2mkshiraj breed ; and says the Parrot to him : " Whip him only once, and at 
starting ; for if you whip him more than once we shall stick midway." This 
horse seems to have been of semi-celestial species. 



284 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

skinned it, and said to me : * Take this knife with thee and intro- 
duce thyself into the skin of the ram, and we will sew thee up and 
go away ; whereupon a bird called the ruJfJi will come to thee, and 
taking thee up by its talons will fly away with thee, and set thee 
down upon a mountain. Then cut open the skin with this knife 
and get out, and the bird will fly away. Thou must arise as soon 
as it hath gone, and journey for half a day, and come to a lofty 
palace.' " The adventurer does as they had instructed him, and in the 
palace he finds forty bewitching damsels. After passing some time 
in their society, they require to absent themselves for a season, and 
before leaving give him the keys of the hundred rooms, charging him 
not to enter the room that has a door of gold. But this he does, 
impelled by fatal curiosity, and sees there a black horse saddled and 
bridled. Leading the steed outside, he mounted him, but he moved 
not a step, then he struck the steed, and as soon as he felt the blow, 
he uttered a sound like thunder, spread a pair of wings, soared into 
the air to a great height, and then descended on the roof of another 
palace, where he threw the rash adventurer from his back, and, by a 
violent blow with his tail on the face as he sat there on the roof, 
struck out his eye and left him.^ 

1 Lane's Arabian Nights, vol. i. p. 1G7 ff. 

The device of being sewn in the skin of some animal, and carried to the 
desired spot by a huge bird occurs in both Western and Eastern fictions. Thus 
in the sixth tale of Laura Gonzen bach's SlGllianische Mdrchen^ Joseph, the 
hero, is sewn up in a horse's hide, and taken by a great bird to the top of a 
high mountain. — In Geldart's Folli-Lore of Mcdern Greece, p. 88 (story of tlie 
Prince and the Fairy), the hero meets a Jew, who tells him that he will find 
game on the top of a neighbouring hill. The Jew sews him up in a buffalo's 
skin, and ravens come and carry him off. On the top of the hill he finds no 
game. The rascally Jew cries : " Throw me two stones and then I'll take you 
down." He throws down the stones — pure diamonds — and the Jew then runs 
off. In the sequel, the youth, of course, meets with good fortune. — In Camp- 
bell's Pojmlar Tales of the West Highlands, No. 44, the Widow's Son is sewn 
up in the skin of a cow and carried off' by a bird to an island. Eabbi Benja- 
min of Tudela writes that when sailors were in danger of being lost at sea near 
China, \\\ej sewed themselves up in hides and awaited the griffin, who carried 
them to land, believing them to be his natural prey. 

In the great Indian story-book, Kathd Savit Sdgara, or Ocean of the 
Elvers of Narrative (by Somadeva, eleventh century, based upon the Vrihat 
Kathd, or Great Story, by Gunhadhya, about the fifth century), an ill-used 
youth, wandering in the wilderness, where no trees afford a friendly shade, 
to escape from the oppressive heat, creeps into the skin of an elephant, the 
jackals having cleared out the flesh. Presently rain falls in torrents ; he is 



Magic Hoo^ses, Chariots, &c. 285 

The Kalandar's unfortunate adventure lias its probable origin in 
tbe tale of Saktideva, wbich occurs in tlie Kathd Sarit Sdgara 
(Tawney's transL, vol. i. p. 223-4) : The hero, by hiding himself in 
the feathers of an enormous bird, reaches the Golden City, makes love 
to Chandraprabhd, daughter of the king of the Yidy4dharas, and 
before she departs to ask her father's consent to their marriage, she 
cautions him not to ascend to the middle terrace of the palace, then she 
goes away, " leaving her heart with him, and escorted on her way by 
his." His curiosity prompts him to go on the middle terrace, and 
there he discovers three pavilions, the door of one of which is open, 
and on entering he beholds a beautiful maiden lying on a magnifi- 
cently jewelled sofa, apparently dead. He then enters the two other 
pavilions, in each of which he sees a maiden in like condition. 
*' Then he went in astonishment out of the palace, and sitting down 
he remained looking at a very beautiful lake below it, and on its 
bank he beheld a horse with a jewelled saddle; so he descended 
immediately from where he was, and out of curiosity approached its 
side; and seeing that it hadaio rider on it he tried to mount it, and 
that horse struck him with his heel and flung him into the lake. 
And after he had sunk beneath the surface of the lake, he quickly 
rose up to his astonishment from the middle of a garden-lake in his 
own city of Yardliamana, and he saw himself suddenly standing in 
the water of the lake in his own native city, like the Kumuda plant, 
miserable without the light of the moon" [the name of his beloved, 
Chandraprabhd, signifies ^' light of the moon '']. 

According to Sir E. E. Burton, the Ebony Horse in the well- 
known Arabian tale is simply Pegasus, " which is a Greek travesty 
of an Egyptian myth, developed in India." I venture to question 
this. Pegasus w^as a winged steed,^ while the Ebony Horse was put 
in motion and guided by means of pins fixed in the head, which 

swept into the Ganges, and a monstrous bird carries ashore the skin and 
begins to tear it open, and on seeing a man inside flies away. — Prof. C. H. 
Tawney's trans., vol. i. p. 77. 

1 In the Greek mytholog)^, as is "known to every schoolboj^," Pegasus is 
really a demigod and inhabits Olympus. Hesiod {Theogony^ 281 ff.) tells us 
ol; his birth and ascent. 



286 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

were turned according as the rider desired to ascend or descend. We 
have, however, seen that there are also winged horses in the Arabian 
Nights^ and the idea of such things, together with the very tales in 
which they occur, was most certainly derived, mediately, from Indian 
fictions. But I am not aware of any evidence that the Hindii winged 
horse is a '' development " of an Egyptian myth, or of its " Greek 
travesty," Pegasus. Surely there is nothing in the idea of a winged 
horse that should render its conception impossihle, or improbable, 
except to a particular race of mankind. The fact that the horse is 
one of the most fleet of quadrupeds might very naturally suggest the 
notion that with wings its usefulness would be increased tenfold — 
by its being enabled to soar above lofty heights, and not require to 
painfully and slowly climb them, and even to render otherwise insu- 
perable obstacles of no account. The bulls in Assyrian sculptures 
are winged : are we also to conclude that these are " a travesty of an 
Egyptian myth"'? That the great nations of antiquity acted and 
re-acted on one another in their mythological conceptions is not to be 
denied ; but it seems to me unreasonable to circumscribe the idea of 
winged quadrupeds to the invention of the Egyptians. We are 
almost daily startled with identities in the folk-lore of savage races, 
the mythologies of ancient nations, and the folk-lore of moderu 
Europe and Asia — identities which cannot possibly be explained 
away by any theory of transmission or borrowing, and which must 
therefore have been independently developed by widely different and 
widely separated races in similar conditions of life, and having more 
or less similar modes of thought. 

But we have not yet done with the subject of magic horses and 
their congeners. It has been already remarked (p. 272, note) that the 
bridle often plays a most important j)art in connection with magic 
steeds, and we have a rather singular example in a modern Albanian 
folk-tale, which is a variant of the charming tale of the Jealous 
Sisters, with which our common English version of the Arabian 
Nights concludes. In this Albanian tale, two children, a boy and a 
girl, are thrown into a river in a box. They are rescued and brought 
up by an aged couple. In course of time the old woman dies, and 



Magic Horses, Chariots, &c. 287 

soon afterwards the cliildren's foster-father, feeling his end drawing 
near, calls the youth to him and says : " Know, my son, that in such 
a place is a cave, where there is a bridle belonging to me. This bridle 
I give thee : but be sure not to open the cave before forty days have 
elapsed,^ if you wish the bridle to do whatever you may command." 
After the expiry of forty days the youth goes to the cave, and having 
opened it finds the bridle. He takes it in his hand and says to it, 
*^I want two horses," and in an instant they appear before him. 
Then the brother and sister mounted them, and in the twinkling of 
an eye arrived in the country of their father, the king.^ 

In a Hungarian tale, the hero, in quest of his three sisters who 
had been carried off by demons, receives from an ascetic a piebald 
horse, which he no sooner mounts than they are high up in the air 
like birds, because the piebald was a magic horse that at all times 
grazed on the silken meadow of the fairies. The piebald, having 
conducted him to the abode of the demon who had possession of his 
second sister, is divested of his bridle, and then sets off alone to seek 
out the abode of the demon who had possession of his third sister. 
By and by, when the hero would continue his journey, " he shakes 
the bridle and the piebald appears."^ 

Another wonderful steed occurs in a Eussian tale. The adven- 
turous hero having been caught trying to carry off an apple from a 
golden apple-tree, he is to be pardoned and to have the coveted apple 
to boot, if he bring the king the golden horse that can make the circuit 
of the world in twenty-four hours. His mentor — a fox^ to wit, whom 
he had refrained from shooting at when he first set out on his travels, 
and who is grateful therefor — tells him the horse is in the forest, and 
there he will find two bridles, one of gold, and the other of hemp ; 
he must be sure to take the hempen one, else the horse will neigh 

1 Muslims mourn for their dead during forty days. — For examples of the 
superstitious veneration in which the number 40 is, held by Orientals, espe- 
cially Jews and Muslims, see my Group of Eastern Romances and Stories, 
1889, pp. 140, 155, 188, 300, 450. 

2 Contes Alhanais, recueillis et traduits par Auguste Dozon, Paris, 1881 ; 
No. II. 

3 The Font-Tales of the Magyars, translated and edited, with comparative 
notes, by Rev. W. Henry Jones and Lewis L. Kropf. Published for the Folk- 
Lore Society, 1889. Pp. 289, 293. 

LANE. U 



288 Magical Elements in the Sqidre's Tale. 

and awake the guards. Butj spite of this caution, he seizes the 
golden bridle and is caught. The king tells him that he will get the 
golden horse, if he bring to him the golden-haired virgin who has 
never seen sun or moon. The fox conducts him to a cave, where ho 
finds the damsel, but his four-footed mentor substitutes another girl, 
whom the hero presents to the king, and thus he obtains for himself 
both the golden-haired virgin and the golden horse. ^ 

In a modern Greek popular tale the hero is married to a princess, 
and sees one day in her hair a small golden key, which he gently 
removes, and with it opens a closet, where all is dark within, but he 
hears cries and groans. He discovers a ring fixed in a slab of 
marble, which he raises, when out comes a hideous black figure on a 
winged horse, which rushes into the chamber of the princess, who is 
forthwith whisked away. The hero sets out in quest of his princess, 
and learns that the ravisher is a very powerful magician,^ and that 
the only means of successfully coping with him is to obtain a winged 
horse : a neighbouring mountain gives birth to one every year ; he 
must wait- with patience and fortitude, for there are many wild 
beasts roaming about the place. After forty days' quaking and 
trembling,^ the mountain is delivered of a winged horse, which the 
bereaved hero bridles and mounts, and soon subdues. To be brief, 
having ascertained where the princess was confined, he carries her 
off in safety, though hotly pursued by the magician on his winged 
steed, for his own young horse was much the swifter of the two."^ 

Variants of the legend of St. George and the Dragon are common 
to the folk-tales of almost every country. In an Albanian tale 
(Dozon's French collection, No. xiv.) a young girl, disguised as a 
soldier, comes to a city where a la77da had long preyed on the popu- 
lation, and the king's son was about to be given up to the monster. 

1 llecneil de Contes jjopulaires Slaves, traduits sur les textes originaux 
par Louis Leger, Paris, 1882 ; No. xix. 

2 It does not appear how this powerful magician, with his winged horse, 
shoukl have been found in durance, with the princess for his gaoler. I sus- 
pect something is omitted from this tale, and think it properly belongs to the 
" Forbidden Koom " cycle. 

^ See a'ute, note 1, p. 287. 

'i JRecneil de Contes popvlaircs Grees, traduits sur les textes originaux par 
Emile Le Grand, Paris, 1881 ; No. xvii. 



Magic Horses, Chariots, &c, 289 

She slays the lamia, and obtains in reward '' a horse that could speak." 
By the advice of this gifted animal, the pretended soldier wins a 
king's daughter, and in the end, after a series of perilous adventures 
in which the horse took no small share, she is changed to a man — 
much to the satisfaction of the bride. 

The sagacious Owl conducts Prince Alimed al-Kamal to a cavern 
in the rocky cliffs which surround Toledo. '^ A sepulchral lamp of 
everlasting oil shed a solemn light through the place. On an iron 
table in the centre of the cavern lay the magic armour, against it 
leaned a lance, and beside it stood an Arabian steed caparisoned for 
the field, but motionless as a statue. When Ahmed laid his hand on 
its neck, it pawed the ground and gave a loud neigh of joy that shook 
the walls of the cavern."^ 

Magicians seem to have been particularly fond of changing their 
victims into the form of a horse, if we may judge from the Arabian 
Nights and other Eastern story-books ; and they assumed the same 
form when it best suited their wicked purposes. The Jews, like all 
other Asiatic peoples, were profound believers in sorcery and witch- 
craft—I say tvere, for it is doubtful whether more than a moiety of 
them nowadays have much belief in anything besides their shekels ; 
and the writings of their rabbis abound in weird and wonderful 
legends of the Black Art, one of which I give, as follows, for what 
it may be worth : It happened once, in the land of Africa, during a 
certain month when the Jews are wont to hold vigils and pray, that 
a man, whose duty it was to knock at people's doors and rouse them 
to devotion, found a horse in the street. He got on his back and 
rode along, knocking at the doors ; but the horse every moment grew 
larger and larger, till at last his backbone was 300 ells from the 
ground, and reached the pinnacle of the highest tower in the city. 
There he left the man, and next morning the citizens found him 
there. No^v you must know that that horse was one of the race of 
magicians. 2 

1 Irving's Tales of the Alhamhra. 

2 The scene of this truly marvellous occurrence, it will be observed, is a 
city in Africa, and the Maghrabi country — that is, the country in Northern 
Africa west of Egypt — was the most famous school of sorcery,' where indeed 

U 2 



290 Magical Elements in the Sq^iire's Tale. 

There is nothing, perhaps, in the wide range of romantic fiction 
which more exhibits the fertility of the human fancy than the variety 
of objects employed for serial locomotion — from the magic horse to 
the witch's broomstick — -and each serving equally well the purpose. 
Cousin-german to the Horse of Brass was the Wooden Bird in the 
Kalmuk Tale ('^Eelations of Siddhi Kiir," 'No, ii.), by means of 
which the " rich youth " rescued his beloved from her ravisher : 

Six young men set out on their travels together, and coming to 
the mouth, of a great river they agreed to separate, and to meet at the 
same spot after a certain time had elapsed. Each planted a " tree of 
life," which by its being found withered would indicate that the 
person it represented was either dead or in great peril, according to 
its condition.^ Five of the youths met at the place and time ap- 
pointed, and they discovered from the life-tree of their missing friend 
thafe'^he was dead. Each of them was master of a craft : the first was 
an astrologer ; the second, a smith ; the third, a physician ; the 
fourth, a skilled mechanic j the fifth was a painter. The astrologer 
discovered by his art the spot where the body of their companion lay, 
under a great stone ; the smith broke the stone ; and the physician 
restored the youth to life. Then they learned from him how he had 
been married to a beautiful damsel ; and how a wicked khan had 
caused her to be stolen and himself to be slain. The astrologer soon 
discovers the '^gilded prison" of the damsel, in the khan's palace. 
Then the mechanic constructs a great wooden bird, that could fly 
rapidly by the turning of a peg in its body ; and the painter 
decorated it most beautifully. All being now prepared, the resus- 
citated youth mounts the bird, turns the peg, and it soars high into 
the air, and presently alights on the roof of the kh4n's palace, whence 
he carries away his beloved, and returns in safety. 

This story is a Kalmuk form of one of the " Twenty-five Tales of 
a Yampyre,"^ a Sanskrit collection which dates, at latest, from the 

it still flourishes. The magicians who still practise their "enchantments" in 
Cairo are, I understand, all Maghrabis. In the present instance the magician's 
object was, of course, to prevent the man from calling the pious Jews to their 
prayers. 

1 For some other examples of "life-tokens," see my Popular Tales and 
Fictions^ vol, i. p. 169 ff. ^ Vetdla Pancliaxinsati, 



Magic Horses, Chariots^ &c, 291 

fiftli century of our era, and of wliich there exist versions in several 
of the vernacular languages of India. It also occurs in the Tiiti 
Ndma, or Parrot-Book, a Persian collection (of Indian extraction) by 
Ziy4 ed-Din JN'akhshabi, where it is told to this effect : 

A rich merchant of Kabul has a beautiful daughter named 
Zuhra (i, e. Yenus), who has many wealthy suitors, but she declares 
that she will marry only a man who is completely wise or very 
skilful. Three young men present themselves before the merchant, 
saying that if his daughter demands a man of skill for her husband, 
either of them should be eligible. The first youth says that his art 
is to discover the whereabouts of anything stolen or lost, and to pre- 
dict future events. The second could make a horse of wood, capable 
of soaring through the air like Solomon's carpet.^ The third was an 
archer, and he could pierce any object at which he might aim his 
arrow. When the merchant reported to his daughter the wonderful 
acquirements of her three new suitors, she promised to give her 
decision next morning. But the same night she disappeared, and 
the unhappy father sent for the three youths, to recover his daughter 
by means of their arts. The first youth discovered that a div 
(demon, or giant) ^ had carried the damsel to the summit of a moun- 
tain which was inaccessible to men. The second constructed a 
wooden horse, and gave it to the third, who mounted it, and very 
speedily reaching the giant's den slew him with an arrow, and 
brought away the maiden. " Each of them claimed her as his by 
right, and the dispute continued."^ 

Plying chariots prove excellent substitutes for flying horses, and 
are almost as frequently employed by daring lovers. It is easy to 
understand that this should be so in the case of purely Indian 
romances and tales, since it is related in the Adi Parva, the first 

^ Concerning which I shall have somewhat to say hereafter. In some MS. 
texts of the Tuti Ndma the second youth says that he can transform his staff 
into a flying horse, and a talisman which he possesses into a chariot that could 
perform a month's journey in a single day. 

2 The div of the Persians corresponds very nearly to the jinni (or genie) 
of Arabian mythology. 

3 Eeaders familiar with Grimm's Kinder- nnd Hcms-Mdrchen will at once 
recognize in the story of "The Four Clever Brothers" an interesting German 
variant, and for others I take leave to refer to my Popular Tales and 
Fictions, vol. i. p. 277 ff. 



292 Magical Elements in the Squire! s Tale. 

book of the grand Hindu epic (or rather series of epics) the MahcU 
hhdrata, that Yaruna, one of the early Vedic deities, furnished Krishna 
and Arjuna not only with celestial weapons, but also with cars of 
such splendour that they delighted every creature that beheld them, 
and they looked like evening clouds reflecting the effulgence of the 
setting sun. — Southey, in a note to his Curse of Kehama^ cites a 
passage, as from Capt. Walford in an article in the Asiatic Researclies, 
giving what he calls " the history of the invention " of the vimana^ 
or self-moving car of Hindu mythology ; but, since he does not con- 
descend to indicate the volume of that work in which it may be found, 
the reader must take it on trust. From this it appears a remarkable 
sage named Eishi'ce'sa p Eishi-Kasha] married the fifty daughters 
of King Hyranyaverna, in the Kali country, by whom he had one 
hundred sons ; and when he succeeded to the throne he built the 
city of Lukhaverdhama, and constructed self-moving cars, in which 
he visited the gods. — This may be all very true, but according to the 
Malidhlidrata^ Yiswakarma was the inventor of flying chariots. ^ 

In the noble Hindu drama of SaMntald, by Kalidasa ("the 
Shakspeare of India," as he has been styled), M4tali, the charioteer 
of Indra, takes King Dushmanta into the car, in order that he should 
visit SakiintaM in Indra's paradise (in Kailasa) ; and on returning 
the following colloquy takes place between them : 

King. 

How wonderful is the appearance of the earth as we rapidlj^ 

descend I 
Stupendous prospect ! Yonder lofty hills 
Do suddenly uprear their towering heads 
Amid tlie plain, while from beneath their crests 
The ground, receding, shrinks ; the trees, whose stems 
Seemed lately hid within their leafy branches, 

1 Several notable celestial chariots occur in Greek mythology, e. g. : that 
of Ares (Mars), in which Aphrodite (Venus), his sister, when wounded by Dio- 
med, is carried to heaven, to recover ; that of Here (Juno), which has six- 
spoked wheels of brass, with iron axles and silver naves, golden rails and 
harness, in which she and Athene go down to help the Greeks; Achilles' 
famous chariot, with its speaking horses (Homer's Iliad^ v. 364 tf. ; v. 720 ; 
xix. .392 ff.). — In Ovid's Met. vii. 218 —236, 350, (fee, we have accounts of 
Medeia's journeys in Hekate's nocturnal chariot ; and in the same there is a 
grand description of the chariot of Phoibus, so misused by Phaethon, And in 
the Orphic Hymns (No. 27) we have the lion-drawn chariot of Cybele, the 
" Mother of the Gods." 



Magic Hoo^scs, ChaoHots, &c. 293 

Rise into elevation, and display 

Their branching shoulders ; yonder streanfis, whose waters 

Like silver threads but now were seen, 

Grow into mighty rivers ; — lo ! the earth 

Seems upward hurled by some gigantic power.^ 

Matali. 
Well described ! ^Looking with awe,'] Grand, indeed, and lovely is the 
spectacle presented by the earth ! 

King. 

Tell me, Matali, what is that range of mountains, which, like a bank of 
clouds illumined by the setting sun, pours down a stream of gold ? On one 
side, its base dips into the eastern ocean, and on the other side, into the 
western. 

Matali. 

Great Prince, it is called the Golden Peak, and is the abode of the 
attendants of the God of Wealth [i. e. Kuvera].'^ 

We read in the Sinhdsana Divatrinsati of a merchant who had 
contracted to marry his son to the daughter of another merchant, who 
lived at some distance from him, and as only four days remained 
before the time appointed for the nuptials, he was in great anxiety, 
because the city of the bride could not be reached within that 
period.^ At this crisis, a carpenter comes to the merchant with a 
flying chariot, which he gladly purchases for a very large sum of 
money, and, by means of its magic power, he and his son reach the 
city in ample time for the marriage. 

At the end of the same collection, Eaja YikramMitya — whose 
extraordinary magnanimity and profuse liberality towards " all sorts 
and conditions of men" are extolled throughout it — ascends to 
heaven (Indraloki) in a flying chariot which had been given to him 
by the deity Indra.* 

1 From these verses one might suppose that the great Indian dramatist 
had himself been actually " up in a balloon," or some other kind of air-ship. 

2 Sakoontald^ or the Lost Ring. Tmnslated into English prose and verse 
by [Sir] Monier Williams. Hertford, 1858. Act vii. pp. 197-8. 

3 The " auspicious " day — ay, and the precise hour of that day — for the 
marriage would have been fixed, as usual, by an astrologer ; and if the bride- 
groom did not make his appearance in time, the bride would probably have 
been at once made over to another man, 

* Of. 2 Kings, ch. ii., v. 11 : " And it came to pass, as they still went on 
and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire, 
and parted them both ; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." 



294 Magical Elements in the Sqiiire's Tale, 

In the Bahdr-i Ddnush^ or Spring (season) of Knowledge, a 
Persian story-book avowedly derived from Hindu sources, a skilled 
carpenter constructs for Prince Hushang a throne that moved rapidly 
through the air, and it carries him to the palace of the beauteous 
princess of whom he has become deeply enamoured. He takes her 
up from the very midst of her attendants and flies off with her to 
his own kingdom, where they are duly married — " and live happy 
ever after." 

A Carpet, as an serial conveyance, performs its part (in stories) 
quite as satisfactorily as any other magical contrivance. The carpet 
which so swiftly carried the three brothers, in the ever-fresh Arabian 
tale of Prince Ahmed and the Peri Bdnii, just in time to save their 
dying cousin, will at once occur to every reader. In a Gipsy variant 
of this tale a robe is substituted, ** which when you put on carried 
you whither you would go."^ And in the tale of Jonathas, in the 
Gesta Romanorum, one of the three magical gifts which his father 
(" Godfridus, Emperor of Eome," no less !) bequeathed him was a 
cloth having the like virtue. 

This notion of a flying carpet was probably introduced into 
Europe during the Middle Ages through rabbinical legends of Solo- 
mon, who, it is said, " ordered the genii to weave him strong silken 
carpets which might contain himself and his followers, together with 
all requisite utensils and equipage for travel. Whenever he desired 
thereafter to make a journey he caused one of these carpets of a 
larger or smaller size, according to the number of attendants, to be 
spread out before the city, and as soon as all that he required was 
placed upon it he gave the signal to the eight winds to raise it up. 
He then seated himself on his throne, and guided them in whatever 
direction he pleased, even as a man guides his horses with bit and 



rems.' 



'2 



^ 3Idrclien und Lieder der Zigetmer der Biihowina, by Dr. Franz Miklo- 
sich : Vienna, 1874. A flying carpet also occurs in a Polish tale, of which a 
translation, under the title of " Hill-leveller and Oak-raser," will be found in 
the Duhlin University Magazine^ 1867, vol. Ixx., p. 138 ; and also in the old 
French romance of Ilicliard sans Peur. 

2 The Bible, the Koran^ and the Talnmd, by Dr. G. Weil, 1846, pp. 
184, 185. 



Magic Horses, Chariots, &c. 295 

The idea of the flying carpet in the Arabian tale may have been 
taken from this rabbinical legend, or from the fable of the throne of 
Jamshid, one of the ancient (and probably mythical) kings of Persia, 
who, among many other wonderful feats, is said to have erected a 
throne of unparalleled magnificence, embellished with pearls and the 
most precious gems, and having seated himself thereon, commanded 
his subject demons (for, like Solomon, he was lord of men and of 
demons) to raise the throne up into the air, and carry him wdierever 
he chose to go. 

Self-moving ships occur in the Eighth Book of the Odyssey; thus 

Alcinous to Ulysses (Pope's paraphrase) — 

So shalt thou reach the distant realm assigned, 
In wondrous boats, self-moved, instinct with mind ; 
No helm secures their course, no pilot guide, 

and so forth. In the old French romance of Parteno^pex de Blots 

(according to Rose) — 

Self-moved, o'er sparkling wave the vessel flew. 
The shore, receding, lessened from his view. 

Hans, the Carl's Son, in the Icelandic tale, receives from a dwarf a 

ship that he could carry in his pocket. ** But when you like," he 

explains, **you can have it as large as you need, even as large as a 

seaworthy vessel ; and one of its powers is that it goes with equal 

speed against the wind and with it."i From an old Gaelic tale, 

possibly, " Ossian " Macpherson derived the incident of an aged 

Druid, called Sgeir, being carried to a distant island in a self-moving 

boat, no person being with him. 

Spenser's description of a similar fairy bark, in one particular, 

recalls that of the Horse of Brass : 

Eftsoones her shallow ship away did glide, 
More swift than swallow sheres the liquid skye ; 
Withouten oar or pilot it to guide, 
Or winged canvas with the wind to fly : 
Onely she turnd a inn, and by and by 
It cut away upon the yielding wave 
(Ne cared she her course for to apply), 
For it was taught the way which she should have, 
And both from rocks and flats itselfe could wisely save.*-^ 

1 Powell and Magnusson's Legends of Iceland^ Second Series. 

2 Faerie Qneene. B, ii., c. 6, st, 5, 



296 Magical Elements in the Sqitires Tale, 

Does not the '' turning of a pin" strikingly resemble the process of 
starting a steam-engine ? Eut, mayhap, some readers will despise me 
for comparing a fairy bark to a modern steamboat ! Is there no 
poetry in a steam-engine 1 Would not Spenser himself acknowledge 
that there is, could he re-visit the glimpses of the moon 1 

In the Sinlidsana Divatrinsafi a raja causes a clever carpenter to 
construct for him a ship that could go through the water without the 
aid of sails, and when it is completed the rdja embarks and sets out 
in quest of a wonderful tree. A ^' clever carpenter "—there can be 
no doubt of it ! 

We have, I think, been long enough at sea in fairy barks, 

That ask no aid of sail or oar, 
That fear no spite of wind or tide, 

and may now resume our a3rial journeys in company with a few noted 
wizards — and witches ; and, this time, on a broomstick and one or 
two other humble things, A broomstick ! Did not Dean Swift 
have his " Meditations on a Broomstick " ^ And is it not a very 
effective implement in the hands of a sturdy housemaid for softening 
the ribs of noisy and thievish curs, when they come prowling about 
the kitchen-garden ^ But why a broomstick should have been, par 
excellence, the vehicle of witches in their journeys through mid-air, 
to meet their " cummers," and hold their infernal " sabbath," with 
" Auld Nicky Ben " as the fitting master of the revels, is almost as 
great a mystery as is the existence in this country, till comparatively 
recent times, of belief in witchcraft itself. Besides riding en broom- 
sticks, witches have been known to cross stormy seas in sieves, and 
even egg-shells, and therefore one should always, after eating a boiled 
egg, knock the spoon through the bottom of the shell, for to mend 
that is even beyond witchcraft.^ But wizards have not disdained to 
ride on broomsticks, though this seems somewhat strange. 

Donald-Duival M^Kay, who may be styled the Michael Scott of 
Eeay, in Sutherland shire, is believed to have learnt the black art in 
Italy ', and he could at any time travel to that country and back in 

1 In the tale of Hasan of Basra {AraHan Nights) an old witch called 
Shawahi is said to have ridden from place to place on a Greek jar of red 
earthenware. 



Magic HorseSy Chariots, &c. 297 

one niglit, " sometimes alighting covered with the frosts and snows 
of the high regions which he had traversed on the traditionary 
broomstick."! — Doctor Torralava, a Spanish magician, in 1520, at 
Valladolid, " told Diego de Zuiiija of his intentions, informing him 
that he had the means of travelling to Eome with extraordinary 
rapidity ; that he had but to place himself astride a stick, and he 
was carried through the air by a cloud of fire " ^ ; — had he added , and 
brimstone, one might, perhaps, credit him. As it is, Diego de Zunija 
seems to have had nothing more for it than the Doctor's word. But, 
scepticism aside, why did such past masters of magic not adopt a 
more dignified conveyance, like the Polish wizard with his painted 
horse 1 Probably because they were not proud I 

In a Persian romance, the hero, Farrukhriiz, receives a staff from 
a venerable devotee, together with these words of instruction and 
warning : " This staff is made from the cocoa-nut tree of Ceylon, and 
one of its numerous properties is, that it conveys its owner safely 
through all dangers to the place of his destination. The various 
genii and sorcerers harbouring enmity towards mankind assume 
different forms, and infest the road, and accomplish the ruin of 
many travellers. There is no doubt but they will also lay snares for 
you ; and should you be so foolish as to lose this staff, you will fall 
into troubles from which you may never escape." ^ 

But a staff, when properly *^ enchanted," has been known to do 
other things besides carrying its master through mid-air. The staff 
of the notorious Major Weir, for instance, who was burned as a 
wizard at Edinburgh in the early part of last century, served the 
purpose of a man-servant, opening the door to visitors, and, it is 
even said, running on errands ! And many readers are probably 
acquainted with Lucian's story, in his PMlopseudes^ that Pancrates, 
an Egyptian magician, being in want of a servant, caused his pestle to 
fetch water and perform many other household duties. It happened 
one day, while Pancrates was from home, that his pupil, finding it 
was necessary to procure a fresh supply of water, and being too lazy 

1 "Folk-Lore in Sutberlandshire," by Miss Dempster, in the Folk-Lore 
Jonvnal, 1888, vol. vi. p. 152. 

2 Wright's Narratives of Sorcery and Magie^ vol. ii. p. 3. 

^ Cloustou's Group of Eastern Romances and Stories (1889), p. 15(), 



298 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale, 

to fetch it himself, muttered some mystical words over the pestle, 
which he had heard his master pronounce when he desired it to 
bring water. Greatly to his delight, the pestle started off with 
alacrity and soon returned with a supply, which having emptied, it 
again and again went for more, till the whole house was flooded. 
The youth now saw, though he knew how to start the pestle as a 
water-carrier, he did not know how to cause it to cease. In desimir, 
he chopped the pestle into a number of pieces, but this made matters 
infinitely worse, for each separate piece at once started off on. its own 
account as a water-carrier ! Moral — *^ A little knowledge is a danger- 
ous thing."! 

Wooden automata, whether purported to be made by magical art 
ot merely mechanical contrivances, are frequently mentioned by 
ancient Greek and Indian authors. In the Katlid Sarit 8dgara 
(Tawney, i. 257) it is stated that a Vidyadhari, named Somaprabha — 
having, for an offence in the celestial regions, been condemned to be 
re-born as a human being and to continue on the earth for a certain 
time — in order to amuse her female companion, constructed me- 
chanical dolls of wood by her magic. One of them, on a pin being 
touched J went through the air at her orders, and quickly returned 
with a garland ; another in like manner fetched water, another 
danced, and another even talked.^ But there is in the same collec- 
tion (i, 290) an account of wooden automata which is much more 
astonishing — if true : King Naravahanadatta, with his minister, 
comes to a city, * ' of vast extent, on the shore of the sea, furnished 
with lofty mansions resembling the peaks of mountains, with streets, 
and arches, adorned with a palace all golden like Mount Meru, 
looking like a second earth. He entered that city by the market- 
street, and beheld that all the population, merchants, women, and 
citizens, were wooden automata that moved as if they were alive, 
but were recognized as lifeless by their want of speech. This aroused 

1 Goethe turned this droll story into verse. 

2 This is the only instance 1 have met with of automata, made by magic, 
being endowed with the power of speech. In the case of the one thousand 
wooden parrots made by a carpenter, in the story of Panch-phul Ranee {Old 
Deeoan Days, No. 9), these were capable of talking in consequence of two 
deities having endowed them with life. 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 299 

astonishment in his mind. And in due course he arrived, with his 
minister, near the king's palace, and saw that all the horses and 
elephants there were of the same material ; and with his minister he 
entered, full of w^onder, that palace, which was resplendent with 
seven ranges of golden buildings. There he saw a majestic man 
sitting on a jewelled throne, surrounded by warders and women, who 
were also wooden automata, the only living being there w^ho produced 
motion in dull material things, like the soul presiding over the 
senses." 

If Favorinus and others may be credited, Archytas the Tarentine, 
a disciple of Pythagoras (b.c. 400), made a wooden dove that was 
capable of flying. But this feat was surpassed — granting its possi- 
bility — by Jannelius Turrianus. After Charles Y. had laid the 
kingdom aside and was living in retirement (says Strada, in his Eir^t 
Book), Turrianus, to amuse him, would place upon the table armed 
figures of men and horses; some beating drums, others blowing 
trumpets, and other little figures of fierce aspect, making assaults 
with couched spears ; and sometimes he brought out small wooden 
sparrows that flew round and round. 



Hap llixTots anir |maps. 

A DESIRE to pry into futurity, to get behind the veil, so to say, 
which conceals coming events — of which King Saul's traffic with 
the Witch of Endor is an ancient and notable example — or to ascer- 
tain what may be occurring at some distant place, has doubtless been 
felt occasionally by the majority of men. It can hardly, however, 
be supposed to have a firm hold of any but minds more or less 
tinctured with superstition, whose general ignorance a:ffiords a willing 
prey to charlatans pretending to be adepts in the so-called arts of 
magic and necromancy. Chaldea was the land where magic fiourislied 
pre-eminently in the days of the world's youth ; and at the present 
day an unquestioning belief in the power of magicians, geomancers, 
exorcisers, and kindred impostors sways the minds of Asiatics (with 
few exceptions), from the prince in his gorgeous palace to the poor 



300 Magical Mcmcnts m the Squire's Tale. 

peasant in his clay or wooden cabin. In Europe during the Middle 
Ages, and even for some centuries later, the jDseudo-sciences of 
astrology and magic were sedulously studied and practised, on lines 
borrowed from the East ; and among the numerous contrivances of 
the Sidrophels, who professed to " deal in Destiny's dark counsels," 
Magic Mirrors were much in vogue. Usually a magician \^•as 
required to cause such a mirror to foreshadow coming events, or 
exhibit on its polished surface scenes which were being enacted in 
some far-off land ; but the Mirror which the Indian cavalier brought 
for the lady Canace appears to have been self-acting. He thus 
describes its wondrous properties : 

^' This mirour eek, that I have in myn hond, 
Hath such a mighte, that men may in it see 
When ther schal falle enj^ adversite 
Unto your regne, or to your self also, 
And openly, who is your frend or fo. 
And over al this, if eny lady bright 
Hath set hir hert on eny manner wight, 
If he be fals, sche schal his tresoun see, 
His newe love, and his subtilite, 
So openly, that ther schall nothing hyde." 

While the Indian ambassador is at dinner in the chamber assigned 
to him, the people are busily engaged in discussing the strange nature 
of the royal gifts : 

And some of hem ^ wondred on the mirrour, 
That born was up into the maister tour,2 
How men might in it suche thinges se, 



And sayde that in Rome was such oon. 

According to a commentator, we have here " an allusion to a magical 
image said to have been placed by the enchanter Virgil in the middle 
of Eome, which communicated to the emperor Titus all the secret 
offences committed every day in the city!' It is very evident, how- 
ever, that Chaucer does not refer to an image but to a mirror similar 
to that presented to Canace—" in Eome was such oon." In one of 
our oldest English metrical versions of the Seven Wise Masters we 
are told of the enchanter Merlin— that 

1 IleDi =-- them. ^ The chief tower, called the donjon. 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 301 

He made in Rome thourow clergj'se ' 

A piler that stode fol heyghe, 

Heyer wel than ony tour, 

And ther-oppon a myrronr^ 

That schon over al the toun by nyght, 

As hyt were day light, 

That the wayetys^ nayght see 

Yf any man come to [the] cite 

Any harme for to doon, 

The cite was warnyd soone.^ 

Most probably Chaucer was acquainted with this version of the 

story, and did not refer to the image, or rather images, which Yirgil 

is said to have also set up in Eome, and of which some account will 

bo given presently. Gower introduces Virgil's magic mirror in his 

Confessio Amantis as follows : ^ 

Whan Rome stood in noble plijt, 
Virgile, which was tho^ parfi3t, 
A mirrour made, of his clergie,^ 
And sette it in the tonnes yhe,^ 
Of marbre,^ on a piller withoute, 
That they, be thritty mile aboute,^ 
By day and eke also be nighte, 
In that mirroure beholde mi^te, 
Here^<^ enemies, if eny were, 
With all here^" ordenaunce there, 
Which they ayein ^^ the citee caste. 
So that, whil thilke mirrour laste, 
Ther was no lond, which mi^t achieue, 
With werre, Rome for to grieue, 
Wherof was gret enuie tho.^ 

1 Clergyse, or clergie = skill ; magic art. 

2 Wayet5^s = watchmen ; sentinels. 

3 From a MS. of The Seven Sages, of about the end of the fourteenth 
century, preserved at Cambridge, printed for the Percy Society, under the 
editorship of Thomas Wright. — The story adds that the emperor was made to 
believe that a great treasure was buried at the foot of the tower, which he 
caused to be pulled down, and the people, in great wrath, 

token of gold a grete bal, 
And letten grynde hyt ryght smal. 
And ptittyn out hys eyen two, 
And fylden the hollys folle bothe, 
His eyen, his nose, and hys throte, 
Thay fylden wit golde every grote ; 
Thus they were at on accent, 
For to gyfe hym that juggement. 

4 Harl. MS. 7184, in Brit. Mus., 1. 88, col. 2 ; Pauli's ed., ii. B. v. p. 195. 
^ Then. ^ Learning ; skill ; ingenuity. 

7 Eye : i. e. in the centre of the city ? ^ Marble. 

^ They had a radius of thirty miles under surveillance. 
10 Their. ^ xigainst. 



302 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

But there is another early English metrical version of the Seven 
Wise Masters, which may also have been known to Chaucer, and in 
which both a magic image and a mirror are described as having been 
constructed by Yirgil : i 

Upon |?e est ^ate of j^e touii 

He made a man of fin^ latoun,^ 

And in his bond of gold a bal. 

Upon ]pQ pte on the west wal 

Virgil kest^ an ymage o]?ei% 

Eijt als hit were his owen bro]?er, 

pat al \)Q folk of Kome said,^ 

Wi|5 ]?at bal to gider /^ai plaid, 

pat on hit hente,^ j^at ol^er hit |?rew ; 

Manie a man f^e so)? i-knew. 

Araideward ]pQ cite, on a stage, 

Virgil made anoj^er ymage, 

pat held a mirour in his bond, 

And ouerseg^ al }?at lond. 

Who wolde pas,'' who wolde bataille, 

Quik he warned j^e toun, saunz faile, 

About Eome seiien jurneys, 

pons he warned ni^t and dais, 

And ]po^ l^at were rebel i-founde, 

pe Komains gadered hem^ in a stounde,i° 

pai wente j^ider quik anon, 

And destrued here^^ fon.^^ 

The magic images — without the mirror — are fully described in the 
Lyfe of Virgilius,'^^ which was probably translated from the French, 
and which is reprinted in Thoms' Early English Prose Romances : 

*' The emporour asked of Yirgilius ho we that he might mak Rome 
prospere and haue many landes under them, and knowe when any 
lande wolde rise agen theym ; and Virgilius said to the emperoure, 
' I woU within short space that do.' And he made vpon the Capito- 
Hum, that was the towne house, made with earned ymages, and of 
stone ; and that he let call Saluacyon Rome, that is to say, this is 

1 Mr. J. T, Clark, Keeper of the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, has kindly 
compared the following extract with the original in the Auchinleck MS., 
preserved in that rich literary treasury. ^ ^iji -^ ^^g^ 

^ Lato^iYi = a kind of mixed metal, of the colour of brass. 

4 Xest = cast. ^ Said = ? saw. ^ Hente = caught. 

7 Pas -=■ pass. ^ Tho == those. ^ Hem = them. 

1^ Stounde = place. ^^ Here = their. i^ jy|,^^ ___ f^gg^ 

^3 " 27iis holie treateth of the lyfe of Virgilius, and of his deth, and many 
inarvayles tJmt he dyd in hys lyfe tyme hy Whycherafte and Nyyramancye 
thorough the helpe of the devyU of hell.'' (Title of the Douce MS.) 



Magic Mirrors and Images, 303 

tlie Saliiacyon of the cytie of Eome ; and ho made in the compace all 

the goddes, that we call mamettes and ydolles, that were under the 

suhiection of Eome ; and euery of the goddes that there were had in 

his hande a bell j and in the mydle of the godes made he one god of 

Eome. And when soever that there was any lande wolde make ony 

warre ageynst Kome, than wolde the godes tourne theyr backes 

towarde the god of Eome; and than the god of the lande that wolde 

stande up ageyne Eome clynked his bell so longe that he hath in his 

hande, tyll the senatours of Eome hereth it, and forthwith they go 

there and see what lande it is that wyll warre a gaynst them ; and so 

they prepare them and subdueth them." 

John Lydgate, in his Bochas — following Gervase of Tilbury, or 

Alexander ISTeckham, perhaps — reproduces this story, in speaking of 

the Pantheon : 

Which was a temple of old foundation, 
Ful of ydols, set up on hye stages ; 
There throughe the worlde of every nacion 
Were of theyr goddes set up great ymages, 
To euery kingdom direct were their visages, 
As poets and Fulgens by his live 
In book^s old plainly doth descrive. 
Every ymage had in his hande a bell, 
As apperteyneth to every nacion, 
Which by craft some token should tell 
Whan any kingdom fil in rebellion, &c. 

It is said that Virgil also constructed for the Eoman emperor a 
palace in which he might see and hear all that was done and said in 
every part of the city — perhaps by some peculiar arrangement of 
reflectors, or mirrors — and this palace the Chaucer commentator may 
have confounded with the magic image. 

Among many other wonderful achievements of the Virgil of 
medieval legend, we learn, from Gervase of Tilbury's Otia Imperi- 
alium, that he set up a brazen fly on one of the gates of Naples, 
which remained there eight years, during which time it did not 
permit any flies to enter the city. On another gate he placed two 
immense images of stone, one of which was handsome and of a merry 
visage, the other was deformed and of a sad countenance ; and who- 
ever passed by the former became prosperous, while such as came 
near the latter was ever afterwards unfortunate in all his affairs. He 

LANE. X 



304 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

also made a fire in the open air, at which every one might freely 
warm himself, and near it was placed a brazen archer, with how and 
arrow, and bearing the inscription, " If any one strike me, I will 
shoot mj arrow." One day a blockhead struck the archer, who shot 
him with his arrow and sent him into the fire, which instantly 
disappeared. 

Magical images are of frequent occurrence in Eastern romances 
and tales, but their power is usually to be subdued by some simple 
means, kindly communicated to the hero by an aged sage, desirous 
of helping to a successful issue his perilous adventure. Thus in the 
tale of " Jddar of Cairo and Mahmiid of Tunis " we have a graphic 
description of the hall of an enchanter, which is guarded by two 
copper statues with bows in their hands ; but " as soon as they take 
aim at you, touch their bows with your sword, and they will fall 
from their hands." ^ 

In the Arabian tale of " The City of Brass " it is related that on 
a high hill was a horseman of brass, on the top of whose spear was a 
glistening head that almost deprived the beholder of sight, and on it 
was inscribed, **0 thou who comest unto me, if thou knowest not 
the way to the City of Brass, rub the hand of the horseman, and he 
will turn and then will stop ; and in whatever direction he stoppeth 
thither proceed, without fear and without difficulty ; for it will lead 
thee to the City of Brass." And when the Emir Miisa had rubbed 
the hand of the horseman, it turned like lightning and faced a differ- 
ent direction from that in which they were travelling. The shaykh 
Abd es-Samad enters the city, and sees in the middle of one of the 
gates a figure of a horseman of brass, having one hand extended as 
though he were pointing with it ; and on the figure was an inscrip- 
tion, which the shaykh read, and lo ! it contained these words : 
*' Turn the pin that is in the middle of the front of the horseman's 
body twelve times, and then the gate will open." So he examined 
the horseman, and in the place indicated was a pin, which he turned 
twelve times, whereupon the gate opened immediately with a noise 
like thunder, and the shaykh Abd es-Samad entered. ^ 

1 Kirby's New Arahian NigJds, not inehided in Galland or Lane^ p. 215. 

2 Lane's Arahian Night Sy vol. iii. pp. 119, 130, 131. 



Magic Mirrors and linages. 305 

We meet with a singular magical contrivance in the tale of the 
Third Kalandar, or Eoyal Mendicant: On the summit of a load- 
stone mountain is a horseman of brass on a steed of brass, on the 
former of which is a tablet of lead, inscribed with mystical names, 
suspended from his neck, and it is decreed that when the brazen 
rider shall be thrown down from his horse the son of King Ajib shall 
be slain. 1 

If we may consider Washington Irving's Tales of the Alhamhra 
as being based on old Moorish legends still surviving in Granada — 
and I see no reason for a contrary opinion — the notion of VirgiFs 
magical images was probably introduced into Europe through the 
Arabs who settled in Spain in the eighth century. In Irving's 
" Legend of the Arabian Astrologer " it is said : " He caused a great 
tower to be erected on the top of the royal palace, which stood on 
the brow of the hill of Albaycin. . . . On the top of the tower was 
a bronze figure of a Moorish horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield 
on one arm and his lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this 
horseman was towards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but if 
any foe were at hand, the figure would turn in that direction and 
would level the lance as if for action." ^ 

All the magical machinery in the mediaeval romance of Duhe 
Huon of Bur deux is traceable to Eastern sources. When that bold 
champion reaches Dunother, the residence of the giant AngolafFar, he 
discovers two men of brass ceaselessly beating their iron flails before 
the gate, so that no man can enter the castle alive. Seeing also a 
golden basin fastened to a marble pillar, he strikes the basin thrice 
with his sword, and the sound of the blows reaches Sebylla, a damsel 
imprisoned in the fortress. She perceives Huon from a window, and 
fears that the giant will slay him. Then she goes to a window near 
the gate, and discovers from his shield that the stranger is from 
Erance. She finds that the giant is asleep, and so ventures to open 



^ Lane's Arahlan Nights, vol. i. p. 165. 

2 In Geoffrey of Monmouth, vii. c. .3, Merlin prophesies that a bi-azen man 
on a brazen horse shall guard the gates of London^ — a prediction which is not 
likely to be fulfilled ; unless, perhaps, one of the equestrian statues which dis- 
figure the metropolis should be removed to the mouth of the Thames. 

X 2 



806 Magical Elements in the Sqtdre's Tale. 

a wicket, which causes the men of brass to stand at rest, and thus 
Huon is enabled to enter with safety.^ 

In the great Persian epic, the Sikandar Ndma, or Alexander- 
Book, by JSTizami, we read that ApoUonius of Tyana erected a stone 
image — a talisman — which had its face veiled, and compelled every 
woman who passed by also to veil her face. 

According to the old Spanish legend, when Don Eoderic had 
caused all the steel locks on the doors of the magic tower near Toledo 
to be opened, which was not done without difficulty, many men tried 
to push open the door without success ; but at the touch of the king's 
hand it rolled back of itself with a harsh grating noise. Entering an 
ante-hall they beheld a door in the opposite wall, and before it a 
fierce-featured figure of bronze constantly whirled a metal club, 
which, striking the hard flooring, caused the clang that had dis- 
mayed the crowd when the door opened. On the breast of the figure 
was a small scroll, inscribed, " I do my duty.'' Eoderic tells the 
figure that he has not come to violate this sanctuary, but to inquire 
into the mystery it contains. " I conjure thee, therefore, to let me 
pass in safety." Upon this the figure paused with uj^lifted mace, 
and the king and his train passed unmolested through the door.^ 



To return to the Magic Mirror of our Tale, to which most of the 
mechanical contrivances noted above were near akin, being designed 
to serve very much the same purposes. The mirror which that ^na 
old humbug Eeynard the Fox asserts he had lost among other 
precious jewels was apparently endowed with especial — and most 
valuable — properties, as well as with those of magic mirrors gener- 
ally. This is his account of its wonderful qualities : ^'ISTow ye shal 
here of the mirrour. The glas that stode^theron was of suclie vertu 
that men myght see therin all that was don within a myle, of men, of 
beestis, and of al thynge that men wold desire, to wyte, and knowe. 
And what man loked in the glasse had he ony dissease, of prickyng, 



^ The Boke of DuJie Huon of Burdovx : Lord Berners' transIatioD, edited 
by Sidney L. Lee. Published for the Early English Text Society. Pp. 98, 99. 
' 2 Washington Irving's Spanish Papers. 



Magic Mirrors and linages. 307 

or motes, sniarte, or perles in his eyen, he shold be anon heled of it. 
Suche grete vertue had the glas."^ 

One of the most celebrated magic mirrors was the Cup of Jam- 
shid, fourth of the first, or Pishdddian, dynasty of Persian kings, 
who belong to the fabulous and unchronicled age. This cup, or 
mirror, is said to have enabled Jamshid to observe all that was pass- 
ing in every part of the world, and it was afterwards employed by 
the great Khusrau — if we may credit the Shcih Ndma, or Book of 
Kings, the grand epic of Firdausi, the Persian Homer [oh. a.d. 1020) 
— for the purpose of discovering the place of the hero Rustam's 
imprisonment : 

The mirror in his hand revolving shook, 

And earth's whole surface glimmered in his look ; 

Nor less the secrets of the starry sphere, 

The what, the when, the how, depicted clear ; 

From orbs celestial to the blade of grass, 

All nature floated in the Magic Glass.^ 

According to D'Herbelot, the Asiatics derived the notion of such a 
magic mirror from the divining cup of the patriarch Joseph, or 
ISTestor's cup in Homer, on which all nature was symbolically repre- 
sented. But it is much more likely that it had its origin with the 
ancient Chaldean magicians. There is every reason to believe, in 
fact, that the Persian poets, in their legendary recitals of the exploits 
of heroes of antiquity, adapted their magical elements from traditions 
of their ancestors, the Fire-worshippers. In the Silcandar Ndma of 
I^izami the royal hero is represented as possessing no fewer than 
three magic specula of different properties : a mirror of the stars ; a 
mirror of the seasons ; and the Sikandariya mirror, that gave intelli- 
gence of the coming of the Europeans — the prototype of the lady 

1 The Hystorye of Reynard tlie Foxe (translated from the old Dutch 
Meynaert die Vos), printed by Caxton in 1481. 

'^ Jamshid is the Solomon of the Persians. He was, says Mirkhond, 
" unrivalled and unequalled amongst mortals in perfection of understanding, 
beauty of person, soundness of experience, and purity of morals. His sway 
extended over the seven climes, and men and genii were alike subject to his 
power. He is said to have requested God that death, disease, and the infirm- 
ities of age might be removed from among mankind ; and, his prayer being 
granted, not one individual in his kingdom was seized with any of these 
calamities during the space of three hundred years." 



308 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

Canace's magic glass and of the images and mirror set up in Eome by 
Virgil, which also gave notice of the advance of an enemy. 

In Spenser's Faerie Queene, B. III. C. ii. st. 18-21, the Eed 
Cross Knight shows Brandomart the image of Artegall in a magic 
glass, and she instantly falls in love with Artegall, as Eastern 
princes — in stories — become desperately enamoured of beautiful 
damsels, from seeing their portraits : 

By strauuge occasion she did him behold. 
And much more straungely gan to love his sight, 
As it in bookes hath written beene of old. 
In Deheubarth, that now South Walls is hight, 
What time King Ryence raignd and dealed right, 
The great Magitien Merlin had devizd, 
By his deepe science and hell -dreaded might, 
A Looking-glasse, right wondrously aguizd,i 
Whose vertues through the wyde world soone were solemnizd. 

It vertue had to shew in perfect sight 
Whatever thing was in the world contaynd, 
Betwixt the lowest earth and hevens hight, 
So that it to the looker appertaynd : 
Whatever foe had wrought, or frend had faynd, 
Therein discovered was, ne ought mote pas, 
Ne ought in secret from the same remaynd ; 
Forthy2 it round and hollow shaped was, 
Like to the world itselfe, and seemd a World of Grlas. 

Who wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke ? 
But who does wonder, that has red the Toure 
Wherein th' Aegyptian Phao long did lurke 
From all mens vew, that none might her discoure, 
Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre ? 
Great Ptolomtee it for his Lemans sake 
Ybuilded all of glasse, by magicke powre, 
And also it impregnable did make ; 
Yet when his love was false, he with a peaze ^ it brake. 

Such was the glassy Globe that Merlin made, 
And gave unto King Ryence for his gard. 
That never foes his kingdome might invade, 
But he it knew at home before he hard 
Tydings thereof, and so them still debard : 
It was a famous present for a prince, 
And worthy work of infinite reward. 
That treasons could bewray and foes convince : 
Happy this realme, had it remayned ever since ! 

The Moorish magicians, or necromancers, had, it is said, a crystal 

stone, to which many strange properties were ascribed, since they 

1 Accoutred — dressed. ^ Therefore. '■^ With a violent blow. 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 309 

raaintaiiied that they could discover in it any scene they desired to 

behold. Thomson has introduced this magical mirror in his Castle 

of Indolence (Canto I. st. 49) : 

One great amusement of our household was 
In a huge crystal magic globe to spy, 
Still as you turned it, all things that do pass 
Upon this ant-hill earth : where constantly 
Of idly-busy men the restless fry 
Run bustling to and fro with foolish haste, 
In search of pleasures vain that from them fly, 
Or which, obtained, the caitiffs dare not taste : 
When nothing is enjoyed, can there be greater waste 1 

This crystal globe was called the " Mirror of Vanity." — Piers Plow- 
man, in his Vision^ had also the privilege of looking into a similar 
magic speculum ; 

In a mirrour hight midle earth she made me loke, 

Si then she sayd to me, "Here mightest thou se wonders.'' 

In Camoens' Lusiad, Canto x., a globe is shown to Vasco da Gama, 

representing the universal fabric of the world, in which he sees future 

kingdoms and events. And Shakspeare says that the law, 

like a prophet, 
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils 
Are now to have no successive degrees. ^ 

Dr. Sprat (Hist, of R. S., Pt. II. sect. xvi. p. 97) thus alludes to the 
use of glasses in incantations : " 'Tis true, the mind of man is a glass, 
which is able to represent to itself all the works of nature ; but it can 
only show those figures which have been brought before it ; — it is no 
magical glass, such as that with which astrologers use to deceive the 
ignorant, by making them believe that therein they behold the image 
of any place or person in the world, though never so far removed 
from it." 2 

Pausanias states that divination by means of mirrors was in use 
among the Achaians, where " those who were sick and in danger of 

1 Measure for Measure^ Act ii. sc. 2. 

2 "Mirror" was a favourite title for books in the Middle Ages, e, g. 
Speculum Historiale of Richard of Cirencester and of Vincent de Beauvais ; 
Specvlum Hwmance Saltationu of Bishop Grrosstete ; Lord Buckhurst's Mirror 
for 3fagistrates ; and in modern times The 3Iirror, a weekly periodical, in 
imitation of Addison's Spectator, &c., conducted at Edinburgh by Henry 
Mackenzie, author of The 3Iath of Feeling ; and 2%e Mii'ror for so many years 
edited by the late John Timbs. 



310 Magical Elements in the Sqtdre's Tale. 

death let down a looking-glass^ fastened by a thread, into a fountain 
before the temple of Ceres ; then if they saw in the glass a ghastly dis- 
figured face they took it as a sure sign of death ; but if the face ap- 
peared fresh and healthy it was a token of recovery. Sometimes glasses 
were used without water, and the images of future things were repre- 
sented in them." In Italy, in order to divine theft, a damsel ap- 
proached a phial of holy water wdth a lighted taper of sanctified w^ax, 
saying, "Angelo bianco, angelo santo, per la tua santita et per la 
mea virginita nostra mi, die la tolto tal cosa " {i. e. white angel, holy 
angel, by the sanctity of my virginity, show me the thief) ; and the 
querent beheld a diminutive figure of the offender in the phial.i 

The story is generally known of Cornelius Agrippa, at the Italian 
court, showing the gallant and poetical Earl of Surrey in a magic 
glass his Geraldine, reclining on a couch and reading one of his 
sonnets ; but though it is still repeated in biographical notices of the 
poet, it rests on no better authority than Tom Nash, who was 
probably its inventor. 

Eoger Bacon, in his Opus Magus, written about the year 1270, 
describes various S2:>ecula, or mirrors, and explains their construction 
and uses. And John of Salisbury mentions a sort of diviners called 
specularii, who predicted future events and told various secrets by 
consulting mirrors and the surface of other pohshed and reflecting 
substances. 2 

What purports to be the magic mirror with which the famous 
Doctor Dee and his assistant Kelly invoked spirits is preserved in 
the British Museum. It is described as " a flat polished mineral, 
like cannel coal, of a circular form, and fitted with a handle." Dee 
was a theurgist, and imagined that he held communication with 
celestial beings. " As he was one day engaged in devout meditation 
(November, 1582), he says there appeared to him the angel Uziel, at 
the west window of his museum, who gave him a translucent stone, 
or crystal, of a convex form, that had the quality, when intently 
surveyed, of presenting apparitions, and even emitting sounds, in 

1 llwmaldus consiUa in causa, c/ravissimus, quoted by Dalyell in his 
Barker Superstitmis of Scotland, p. 520. 

2 Warton's Hlstonj of English Poetry, 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 811 

consequence of wliicli the observer could hold conversations, ask 
questions, and receive answers from the figures he saw in the mirror.^ 
It was often necessary that the stone should be turned one way and 
another, in different positions, before the person who consulted it 
gained the right focus ; and then the objects to be observed would 
sometimes show themselves on the surface of the stone, and some- 
times in different parts of the room, by virtue of the action of the 
stone." 2 

Elias Ashmole, in his Tlieatrum Chemicum^ speaks of Doctor 
Dee's mirror in these terms : " By the aid of this magic stone, we can 
see whatever persons we desire, no matter at what part of the world 
they may be, and were they hidden in the most retired apartments, 
or even the hidden caverns in the bowels of the earth." But the 
stone preserved in the British Museum as *' Doctor Dee's Magic 
Mirror" is certainly not the stone with which he and Edward Kelly, 
for his " skryer," invoked spirits, since that was a globe of crystal. — 
W. Harrison Aiusworth, in one of his romances, or novels, makes 
Doctor Dee exhibit in his magic glass, after burning certain herbs in 
a brazier, the scene of the vault beneath the Parliament-house, filled 
with barrels partly covered with faggots, and afterwards Fawkes 
himself stretched upon the wheel, and writhing in the agonies of 
torture. He also represents Dee as communicating the Plot to 
Salisbury : if he really did so, he had probably much more reliable 
information than any that his mirror could afford him ! 

Butler thus refers to Kelly's performances with Doctor Dee's 
mirror {Hiidihras, Part II., Canto iii., 11. 631-2) : 

Kelly did all his feats upon 

The devil's lookiDg-glass — a stone ; 

on which Dr. Nash remarks : " The poet might hero term this stone 
the * devil's looking-glass ' from the use which Dee and Kelly made 

1 In a Hungarian tale there occurs a looking-glass that has power to 
speak — see Magyar FolJi-Tales, translated by Jones and Kropf (Folk-Lore 
Society, 1889), p. 165. And in one of Grimm's tales a queen says: "Mirror, 
mirror on the wall, who Is the fairest in all this land? " The mirror answers : 
" Lady queen, you are the fairest here ; but little Snow-white is a thousand 
times fairer than you." 

2 Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers, 1834, p. 376. 



812 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale, 

of it, and because it has been tlie common practice of conjurors to 
answer the inquiries of persons by representations shown to them in 
a glass. Dr. Merick Casaubon quotes a passage to this purpose from 
a manuscript of Eoger Bacon, inscribed De Didis et Fadis falsorum 
Mathematicorum et Daemonum: The daemons sometimes appear 
to them really, sometimes imaginarily, in basins and polished things, 
and show them whatever they des^ire. Boys looking upon these 
surfaces see by imagination things that have been stolen, to what 
places they have been carried, what persons took them away, and 
the like. In the Praemium of Joachim Camerarius to Plutardi De 
Oraculis we are told that a gentleman of Nuremberg had a crystal 
which had this singular virtue, viz., if any one desired to know any- 
thing past or future, let a young man, castus, or who was not yet of 
age, look into it ; he would first see a man so-and-so apparelled, and 
afterwards what he desired. We meet with a similar story in 
Ileylin's Hist of Ref., Pt. III. The Earl of Hertford, brother to 
Queen Jane, having formerly been employed in France, acquainted 
himself with a learned man, who was supposed to have great skill in 
magic. To this person, by rewards and importunities, he applied for 
information concerning his affairs at home, and his inipertinent 
curiosity was so far satisfied that by the help of some magical per- 
spective he beheld a gentleman in a more famiHar posture with his 
wife than w^as consistent with the honour of either party. To this 
diabolical illusion he is said to have given so much credit that he not 
only estranged himself from her society on his return, but furnished 
a second wife with an excellent reason for the disinherision of his 
former children." ^ 

1 Down to quite recent times, among the superstitious customs in Scotland 
on the eve of All-hallows day, or Hallowe'en, as we learn from Burns' fine 
description of that festival, was that of young girls eating an apple before a 
looking-glass, "with the view of discovering the inquirer's future husband, 
who it was believed would be seen peeping over her shoulder." In the Orkney 
Islands, on the same occasion, it was customary, and still is, perhaps, in rural 
districts, for girls to have their fortunes revealed by old women, called 
spaewives, whose magic mirror consisted in the white of an Qgg dropped into 
a glass full of water, and the curious forms which it assumed were interpreted 
by the "wise woman" to indicate a fine house, a handsome young man, and 
so forth. There are still, perchance, old Scotch wives who pretend to "spae" 
from examination of tea-leaves at the bottom of a cup. 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 313 

A very common mode of attempting to cause tlie death of any 
objectionable person through witchcraft was to make a waxen or clay 
image of the destined victim, and fi^ pins into it, or place it before a 
large fire, when it was supposed the victim represented by the effigy 
would either waste gradually away, or die in great torment. The 
first chapter of the old English version of the Gesta Romanorum — 
re-edited from the Harl. MS. 7333, Brit. Mus., by S. J. Herrtage, 
for the Early English Text Society — tells how a plot of this kind 
was frustrated by means of a magic mirror ; 

In the empire of Eome there lived a knight who " hadde wedded 
a young damsell to wif. And withinne few yerys this woman lovid 
by wey of synne an othir knight, vnder hire husbond, and that so 
moch that she ordeyned for her husbonde to be ded." It so hap- 
pened that lie set out on a pilgrimage beyond sea, and in saying 
farewell to his wife he cautioned her to be of good behaviour during 
his absence. But this false woman having determined to cause her 
husband's death took counsel for that end with a magician, who 
made a clay image of the knight and fastened it on the wall. The 
same day the knight was walking in the streets of Home when he 
met a clerk, who seemed to look at him with peculiar interest, and 
on his asking the clerk why he did so, he answered : " I see that 
thou shalt die this very day, unless something may be contrived to 
prevent it," and then tells the knight that his wife is a strumpet, and 
had employed a magician to kill him by his unholy arts. The knight 
replied that he was well aware that his wife was false to the nuptial 
couch, but he had never suspected she was so wicked as to plot his 
death ; but if the clerk could save him, he should be well rewarded. 
The clerk tells him how the magician had made a clay image of him, 
and would presently shoot an arrow at it, and if he struck the image 
the knight's heart would burst instantly. But the clerk would save 
his life. He causes the knight to take off his clothes and go into a 
bath which he prepared for him, and this is how the tale goes on : 

" And whan he was in the bath the clerk took a myrour in his 
hond and seide : ' I^owe thou shalt see in this myrour all that I 
spak of to thee.' And then seide he : * Ye[a], sothly, I see all opynly 
in myne hous, that thou spakist of to me. And now the myster 



314 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

iiiaii^ takitli his bowe, and woll scliete att the ymage.' Thenne seide 
the clerk : * Sir, as thou lovist thy lif, what tyme that he drawith 
his bowe, bowe thyne hed vnder the watir. For if thou do not, 
certenly thy ymage shall be smytene and thou both.' And when 
the knight sawe him begynne forto drawe his bowe, he dyd as the 
clerke conseiled him. And thenne seide the clerke : * "What seist 
thou now 1 ' * Forsoth,' quoth he, * now hath he schete an arowe at 
the ymage, and for that he failith of his strook he makith moch 
sorowe.' Thenne seide the clerke, * Ye[a], that [is] goode tydyng 
for thee. For if he had smyten the ymage, thou sholdist have i-be 
ded. But loke now on the niyrour, and tell me what thou seist.' 
* ITow he takith an other arowe and woll schete agein.' * Do, thenne,' 
quoth the clerke, ' as thou dyd afore, or ellis thou shalt be ded.' 
And therfore the knight putte all his hede vnder the watir. And 
whenne he had so y-done, he raisid it vp agen, and seyde to the 
clerke : ' He makith sorowe now more than ony man woll trowe ; for 
he smot not the ymage. And he cryed to my wif, seiying that " If 
I fayle the third tyme I am but ded my selfe, and thyne husbond 
shall ly ve." And my wif makith therfor moch lamentacion.' * Loke 
agen,' seide the clerke, *and tell me what he doth.' ' Forsothe,' 
seide he, ' he hath bend his bowe and goith ny to the ymage for to 
shete, and tlierfor I drede now gretly.' * Do, therfore,' seide the 
clerke, ^ do as I bade doo afore, and dred the[e] nothyng.' So the 
knyght, whenne he sawe the scheter drawe his bowe, he swapte his 
hed vndir the watir as he dyd afore. And thenne he toke it vp agen 
and lokid at the myrour, and he lough with a gret myrth. * I sey,' 
quod the clerke, * whi laughist thou soo ^ ' ' For the archer wold 
have y-schot at the ymage, and he hath y-schotte him selfe in the 
lungen, and lyith ded. And my wif makith sorowe with oute ende, 
and woll hyde his body by hire beddys syde.' ' Ye[a], sir,' quod the 
clerke, * now thou haste tin lif savid, do yeld to me my mede and 
go ; far well.' Thenne the knyght gaf him mede as he woll aske. 
And the knyght went hom, and fond the body undir the bedde of 
his wif, and he gede to the Meyre of the towne and told him ho we 
his wif had don in his absence. Thenne when the Meyre and the 
1 The mystery man = the magician. 



Magic Mirrors and Images, 815 

statys sawe this doyng they made the wif to be slayne, and hire 
herte to be departid yn to thre parteis, in tokne and emsampiU of 
veniaiince. And the good man toke an othir wif, and faire endid 
his liffe." 1 

A reverend English author of the 17th century relates that a 
friend named Hill happened to be in company with a man called 
Compton, of Somersetshire, who practised physic and pretended to 
strange matters. This Compton ** talked of many high things, and, 
having drawn my friend into another room, apart from the rest of 
the company, said he would make him sensible that he could do 
something more than ordinary ; and asked him whom he desired to 
see. Mr. Hill had no great confidence in his talk, but yet, being 
earnestly pressed to name some one, he said he desired to see no one 
so much as his wife, who was then many miles distant from them at 
her house. Upon this Compton took up a looking-glass that was in 
the room, and setting it down again, bade my friend look into it, 
whichL he did, and then, as he most solemnly and seriously professeth, 
he saw the exact image of his wife, in that habit which she then 
wore, and working at her needle, in such a part of the room, there 
also represented, in which and about which time she really was, as 
he found upon inquiry on his return home. The gentleman him- 
self,'* adds our reverend author, " averred this to me ; and he is a 
sober, intelligent, and credible person. Compton had no knowledge 
of him before, and was an utter stranger to the person of his wife."^ 

1 Akin to the notion of injuring or killing a person by shooting at his effigy- 
is the world-wide superstition, which was held by no less a man than Pytha- 
goras, that by running a nail or a knife into a man's footprints you injure the 
feet that made them. " Thus in Mecklenburg it is thought that if you thrust 
a nail into a man's footprints the man will go lame. The Australian blacks 
hold exactly the same view. . . . Among the Karens of Burma evil-disposed 
persons *keep poisoned fangs in their possession for the purpose of killing 
people. These they thrust into the footmarks of the person they wish to kill, 
who soon finds himself with a sore foot, and marks on it as if bitten b}^ a dog. 
The sore becomes rapidly worse and worse till death ensues.' " See an excellent 
paper on " Some Popular Superstitions of the Ancients," by Mr. J. G. Frazer, 
in Folh-Lore, June, 1890, pp. 157-159. 

^ Sadducismns TriuDiphatus ; ov, a Full and Plain Evidence concerning 
Witches and Apparitions. By Joseph Glanvil, Chaplain in ordinary to Kiug 
Charles II. Fourth edition, 172G. P. 281. 



816 Magical Elements in the Sqtcire^s Tale. 

Sir Walter Scott's tale entitled '' My Aunt Margaret's Mirror"— 
which first appeared in The Keepsake for 1828, and was afterwards 
included in his Chronicles of the Canongate — is curiously misnamed, 
since the " aunt " is merely the relater of the story, and the magic 
mirror was one of the "properties" of an Italian adventurer who 
practised for a time on the credulity of the good folk of Edinburgh, 
about the beginning of the 18th century. This fellow called him- 
self Doctor Baptista Damiotti, and pretended to hail from Padua, 
and soon after his arrival in the Scottish capital it became rumoured 
that " for a certain gratification, which of course was not an incon- 
siderable one, he could tell the fate of the absent, and even show his 
visitors the personal forms of their absent friends and the action in 
which they were engaged at the moment." Amongst those who 
visited this most cunning necromancer was the sadly-neglected 
wife of Sir Philip Forester, who was then with Marlborough's 
army on the continent. Lady Forester prevailed upon her strong- 
minded sister Lady Bothwell to accompany her on a visit to Doctor 
Baptista, to see whether he could furnish by means of his mysterious 
art tidings of her husband. They went disguised as women of the 
humbler class, but the adept was not thus to be deceived. " We are 
poor people," Lady Bothwell began ; " only my sister's distress has 
brought us to consult your worship whether — " He smiled and inter- 
rupted her: **I am aware, madam, of your sister's distress and its 
cause ; I am also aware that I am honoured with a visit from two 
ladies of the highest consideration — Lady Bothwell and Lady 
Forester," and so on. After some farther conversation the man of 
wonders retires. Meanwhile the minds of his fair visitors are pre- 
pared for tbe scene about to be presented by ^^a strain of music so 
singularly sweet and solemn, that, while it seemed calculated to dis- 
pel any feeling unconnected with its harmony, increased at the same 
time the solemn excitation which the preceding interview was cal- 
culated to produce." Presently a door opens at the upper end of the 
apartment, and Damiotti is discovered decked out in a peculiar 
costume, with his face preternaturally pale, and he motions them to 
advance. They now enter a large room hung with black, as if for 
a funeral; at the upper end of which was a kind of altar, ^^ covered 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 317 

with the same lugubrious colour, on which lay divers objects resem- 
bling the usual implements of sorcery." Behind the altar was a 
large mirror, to which the adept pointed, at the same time leading 
them towards it. (He had previously warned them that the ** sight'' 
he was about to show them could last only seven minutes, and " should 
they interrupt the vision by speaking a single word, not only would 
the chaim be broken, but some danger might result to the spectators.") 
As they gazed on the mirror they beheld objects as it were within it, 
" at first in a disorderly, indistinct, and miscellaneous manner, like 
form arranging itself out of chaos ; at length in distinct shape and 
symmetry." They saw in the mirror the interior of a Protestant 
church, with the clergyman and his clerk, apparently about to per- 
form some church service. A bridal party are now seen to enter, 
followed by a large concourse of persons of both sexes, gaily dressed. 
**The bride, whose features they could distinctly see, was not more than 
sixteen years old, and extremely beautiful. The bridegroom, for some 
seconds, moved rather with his shoulder towards them, and his face 
averted ; but his elegance of form and step struck the sisters at once 
with the same impression. As he turned his face suddenly it was 
frightfully realized, and they saw in the gay bridegroom before them 
Sir Philip Forester. His wife uttered an imperfect exclamation, at 
the sound of which the whole scene stirred and seemed to separate." 
Lady Forester, however, contrived to stifle her voice, and after a 
minute's fluctuation the scene resumed its former appearance. *' The 
representation of Sir Philip Forester, now distinctly visible in form 
and feature, was seen to lead on towards the clergyman that beautiful 
girl, who advanced at once with a diffidence and with a species of 
afl'ectionate pride. In the meantime, just as the clergyman had 
arranged the bridal company before him, and seemed about to 
commence the service, another group of persons, of whom two or 
three were officers, entered the church. They moved at first forward, 
as though they came to witness the bridal ceremony ; but suddenly 
one of the officers, whose back was turned towards the spectators, 
detached himself from his companions, and rushed hastily towards 
the marriage party, when the whole of them turned towards him, as 
if attracted by some exclamation which had accompanied the advance. 



*318 Magical EU'inents in the Squire's Tale. 

Suddenly the intruder drew his sword ; the bridegroom unsheathed 
his own and made towards him. Swords were also drawn by other 
individuals, both of the marriage party and of those who had last 
entered. They fell into a sort of confusion, the clergyman and some 
elderly and grave persons labouring apparently to keep the peace, 
while the hotter spirits on both sides brandished their w^eapons. 
But now the period of the brief space during which the soothsayer, 
as he pretended, was permitted to exhibit his art was arrived. The 
forms again mixed together, and dissolved gradually from observa- 
tion ; the vaults and columns of the church rolled asunder and 
disappeared ; and the front of the mirror reflected nothing save the 
blazing torches and the melancholy apparatus placed on the altar 
before it." 

Such was the ** vision'' presented to the ladies, and it may be 
well supposed that Lady Forester was in a " sad taking " in conse- 
quence thereof — what woman would not be greatly perturbed both 
in body and mind at beholding, even " in a glass darkly," the 
marriage of her husband with a pretty girl of sixteen ? It turned 
out that Forester was actually about to be married to the beautiful 
daughter of a wealthy burgomaster in Eotterdam, when his brother- 
in-law, Captain Falconer, who chanced to be then in that city on 
military business, being invited by a Dutch friend to accompany 
him to church to see a countryman of his own married, and, going 
accordingly, w^as just in time to prevent the crime. He afterwards 
fought with Forester, and was killed. Only all this happened a 
little time hefore it was exhibited in Doctor Damiotti's magic mirror. 

That consummate charlatan, Joseph Balsamo— who assumed the 
title and name of Count Cagliostro, and for several years during the 
latter part of the last century successfully posed before the " crowned 
heads" and the aristocracy of Europe as past master of the Rosi- 
crucian mysteries, and ended his ill-spent life in a dungeon — among 
his cunning tricks, caused people, says the Abbe Firard, to see in 
mirrors, glass bottles, and decanters moving spectres of men and 
women long since dead — Antony, Cleopatra — in short, whoever 
might be requested. *' A diabolical performance ! " exclaims the 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 819 

pious father, "known in every age of the Church, and testified 
against by those whom no man can call unenlightened — by Ter- 
tulliai), St. Justin; Lactantius, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, and others.'' 
This most shameless of all charlatans, ancient or modern — this 
Joseph Balsamo — is the hero of one of the Elder Dumas' popular 
romances, in which he figures with a dignity which he might well be 
supposed to have safely assumed in those days when scepticism and 
superstition went together among the higher classes of the Parisians. 
Dumas gives the following account of Balsamo's exhibiting to Marie 
Antoinette her terrible fate in a decanter of water — a feat which he 
is credibly said to have done, by some species of trickery : 

**He seized the carafe on the golden saucer, placed it in a dark 
hollow where some rocks formed a sort of grotto ; then he took the 
hand of the archduchess and drew her under the vault. ' Are you 
ready ? ' he asked the princess, who was alarmed by his rapid move- 
ments. * Yes.' ' On your knees, then 1 — on your knees ! — and pray 
God to spare you this dreadful end of all your greatness, which you 
are now to witness ! ' She obeyed mechanically and fell on both 
knees. He pointed with a wand to the glass globe, in the centre of 
which must have appeared some dark and terrible form, for the 
dauphiness, in trying to rise, trembled and sank upon the ground 
with a shriek of horror — she had fainted. The baron hastened to 
her assistance, and in a few minutes she came to herself. She put 
her hand to her forehead, as if to recall her thoughts, then suddenly 
exclaimed, * The carafe ! — the carafe ! ' The baron presented it to 
her. The water was perfectly limpid— not a stain mingled with it. 
Balsamo was gone."^ 

There is a curious letter in Sir Hy, Ellis' collection, from the 
Abbot of Abingdon to Cromwell, secretary of state in the time of 
Henry VIII,, in which he reports having taken into custody a priest 
who had been travelling about the country as a magician : " Eight 
honourable and my very singular good Master, in my mooste humble 
wyse I comende me imto you. It shall please your Mastership to 
be advertised that my Officers have taken here a Preyste, a suspecte 
1 Dumas' Memoirs of a Physician, cli. xv. 



320 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

person, and witli Lyni certeyn bokes of conjuracions, in the whiche 
ys conteyned many conclusions of that worke; as fyndiiig out 
tresure hidde, consecrating of ringes with stones in them, and 
consecrating of a cliristal stone, wherein a eliylde shall lohlie, and se 
many thyngsy^ 

The employment of a child, or a young lad, as a medium in 
performances with a magic mirror seems to have been formerly 
almost as common in Europe as it has been time- out of mind, and is 
at the present day, throughout the East generally — see also, ante, 
page 312, where a young man, castns, or a youth not yet come to 
mature years, is said to be necessary for that purpose. The celebrated 
Arabist, E. W. Lane, in chapter xii. of his Modern Egyptians, 
furnishes a detailed account of an experiment with a magic mirror 
of ink, which he witnessed at Cairo, in his own lodging : 

** In preparing for the experiment of the magic mirror of ink, 
which, like some other performances of a similar nature, is termed 
darh el-mendel, the magician first asked me for a reed-pen, ink, a 
piece of paper, and a pair of scissors ; and having cut off a narrow 
strip of paper, he wrote upon it certain forms of invocation, together 
with a charm, by which he professes to accomplish the object of the 
experiment. He did not attempt to conceal these; and on my ask- 
ing him to give me copies of them he readily consented, and imme- 
diately wrote them for me, explaining at the same time that the 
object he had in view was accomplished through the influence of tlie 
two first words, Tarshun and Taryooslmn, which he said were tlie 
names of two of his ' familiar spirits.' I compared the copies with 
the originals, and found that they exactly agreed. The following is 
a translation of the invocation and charm : 

* Tarshun ! Taryooshun I Come down ! 
Come down ! Be present ! Whither are gone 
the prince and liis troops? where are El-Ahmar 
the prince and his troops ? Be present, 
ye servants of these names I ' 

*And this is the removal. "And we have removed from thee 
thy veil ; and thy sight to-day 
is piercing." Correct: correct. '^ 

1 Ellis' Original Letters^ 3rd Series, vol. iii. p. 41, Letter 2G8. 

2 Facsimile of the Arabic originals facing this page. 



See^Pffjire 320. 



>^^J^ 



vr 










See7i^e327. 



iAf*e 







f 



3£agic Mirrors and Images. 321 

Having written these, the magician cut off the paper containing the 
forms of invocation from that upon which the charm was written, 
and cut the former into six strips. He then explained to me that 
the object of the charm (which contains part of the 21st verse of the 
soora ' Kaf,' or 50th chapter, of the Kuran) was to open the boy's 
eyes in a supernatural manner — to make his sight pierce into what is 
to us the invisible world. 

** I had prepared, by the magician's direction, some frankincense 
and coriander seed — he generally requires some benzoin to be added 
to these — and a chafing-dish with some live charcoal in it. These were 
now brought into the room, together with the boy who was to be 
employed : he had been called in, by my desire, from among some 
boys in the street, returning from a factory, and was about eight or 
nine years of age. In reply to my inquiry respecting the description 
of persons who could see in the magic mirror of ink, the magician 
said that they were, a boy not arrived at puberty, a virgin, a black 
female slave, and a pregnant woman. The chafing-dish was placed 
before him and the boy, and the latter was placed on a seat. Tlie 
magician now desired my servant to put some frankincense and 
coriander-seed into the chafing-dish ; then taking hold of the boy's 
right hand he drew in the palm of it a magic square.^ In the centre 
he poured a little ink, and desired the boy to look into it, and to tell 
him if he could see his face reflected in it. The boy replied that he 
saw his face clearly. The magician, holding the boy's hand all the 
while,^ told him to continue looking intently into the ink and not to 
raise his head. 

" He then took one of the little strips of paper inscribed with the 
form of invocation and dropped it into the chafing-dish upon the 

1 Facsimile of the magic square and mirror of ink is given along with that 
of the incantation and charm, facing p. 320. The figures which it contains are 
Arabic numerals ; in our ordinary characters they are as follows : 



£ !_£ I 7 ! 

"si \T^^ 



It will be seen that the horizontal, vertical, and diagonal rows give each the 
same sum, viz. 15. 

'-^ This, says Lane, reminds us of animal magnetism, 

Y 2 



322 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

burning coals aiid perfumes, which had ah-eady filled the room with 
their smoke ; and as he did this he commenced an indistinct mutter- 
ing of words, which he continued during the whole process, except- 
ing when he had to ask the boy a question, or to tell him what he 
was to say. The piece of paper containing the words from the 
Kurdn he placed inside the fore-part of the boy's tdkeeyeh^ or skull- 
cap. He then asked him if he saw anything in the ink, and was 
answered * iN'o ' ; but about a minute after, the boy, trembling and 
seeming much frightened, said : *I see a man sweeping the ground.' 

* When he has done sweeping,' said the magician, Hell me.' Pre- 
sently the boy said : ^ He has done.' The magician again inter- 
rupted his muttering to ask the boy if he knew what a heyralc (or 
flag) was ; and being answ^ered ' Yes,' desired him to say : ^ Bring a 
flag.' The boy did so, and soon said: ^ He has brought a flag.' 

* What colour is it T asked the magician. The boy replied : ' Eed. ' 
He was told to call for another flag, which he did, and soon after he 
said he saw another brought, and it was black. , In like manner he 
was told to call for a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh, which 
he described as being successively brought before him, specifying 
their colours as white, green, black, red, and blue. The magician 
then asked him (as he did also each time a new flag was described as 
being brought) : ' How many flags have you now before you *? ' The 
boy answered : * Seven.' While this was going on the magician put 
the second and third of the small strips of paper upon which the forms 
of invocation and charm were written into the chafing-dish, and fresh 
frankincense and coriander-seed having been repeatedly added the 
fumes became painful to the eyes. When the boy had described the 
seven flags as appearing to him, he was desired to say : * Bring the 
sultan's tent and pitch it.' This he did, and in about a minute after 
he said : ' Some men have brought the tent — a large green tent ;— 
they are pitching it ; ' and presently he added : ' They have set it 
up.' ^Now,' said the magician, * order the soldiers to come, and to 
] itch their camp around the tent of the sultan.' The boy did as he 
was desired, and immediately said : * I see a great many soldiers with 
their tents ; — they have pitched their tents.' He was then told to 
order that the soldiers should be drawn up in ranks; and having 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 323 

done so he presently said that he saw them thus arranged. The 
magician had put the fourth of the little strips of paper into the 
chafing-dish, and soon after he did the same with the fifth. He now 
said : ' Tell some of the people to bring a bull.' The boy gave the 
order required, and said : ^ I see a bull ; it is red. Four men are 
dragging it along, and three are beating it.' He was told to desire 
them to kill it, cut it up, put the meat in saucepans, and cook it. 
He did as he was directed, and described these operations as ap- 
parently performed before his eyes. * Tell the soldiers,' said the 
magician, Ho eat it.' The boy did so, and said: *They are eating 
it ; — they have done, and are washing their hands.' The magician 
then told him to call for the sultan, and the boy, having done this, 
said : ' I see the sultan riding to his tent on a bay horse, and he has 
on his head a high red cap. He has alighted at his tent and sat 
down within it.' * Desire them to bring coffee to the sultan,' said 
the magician, *and to form the court.' These orders were given by 
the boy, and he said he saw them performed. The magician had put 
the last of the six little strips of paper into the chafing-dish. In his 
mutterings I distinguished nothing but the words of the written 
invocation frequently repeated, excepting on two or three occasions, 
when I heard him say, * If they demand information, inform them, 
and be ye veracious.' But much that he repeated was inaudible, and, 
as I did not ask him to teach me his art, I do not pretend to assert 
that I am fully acquainted with his invocations. 

" He now addressed himself to me, and asked me if I wished the 
boy to see any person who was absent or dead. I named Lord 
Nelson, of whom the boy had evidently never heard, for it was with 
much difficulty that he pronounced the name after several trials. 
The magician desired the boy to say to the sultan : ' My master 
salutes thee, and desires thee to bring Lord Nelson — bring him be- 
fore my eyes that I may see him speedily.' The boy then said so, 
and almost immediately added : ^ A messenger is gone, and has 
returned and brought a man dressed in a black^ suit of European 
clothes : the man has lost his left arm.' He then paused for a 

^ " Dark blue is called by the modern Egyptians es7ved, which properly 
signifies Mack, and is therefore so translated here." 



324 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale, 

moment or two, and, looking more intently and more closely into 
the ink, said : * j^o, he has not lost his left arm, but it is placed to 
his breast.' This correction made his description more striking than 
it had been without it, since Lord Nelson generally had his empty 
sleeve attached to the breast of his coat, but it was the rigid arm 
that he had lost. "Without saying that I suspected the boy had 
made a mistake, I asked the magician whether the objects appeared 
in the ink as if actually before the eyes, or as if in a glass, which 
makes the right appear left. He answered that they appeared as in 
a mirror. This rendered the boy's description faultless. ^ 

" The next person I called for was a native of Egypt who had 
been for many years resident in England, where he has adopted our 
dress, and who had been long confined to his bed by illness before 
I embarked for this country. I thought that his name, one not very 
uncommon in Egypt, might make the boy describe him incorrectly ; 
though another boy on a former visit of the magician had described 
this same person as wearing a European dress like that in which I last 
saw him. In the present case the boy said : * Here is a man brought 
on a kind of bier and wrapped up in a sheet.' This description 
would suit, supposing the person in question to be still confined to 
his bed, or if he be dead.^ The boy described his face as covered, 
and was told to order that it should be uncovered. This he did and 
then said : ' His face is pale, and he has moustaches, but no beard,' 
which is correct. 

'^ Several other persons were successively called for, but the boy's 
descriptions of them were imperfect, though not altogether incorrect. 

1 *' Whenever I desired the boy to call for any person to appear I pnid 
particular attention to the magician and to 'Osmau [a friend]. The latter 
gave no direction either by word or sign, and indeed he was generally unac- 
quainted with the personal appearance of the person called for. I took care 
that he had no previous communication with the boy, and have seen the 
experiment fail when he could have given directions to them or to the magi- 
cian. In short, it would be difficult to conceive any precaution which I did 
not take. It is important to add that the dialect of the magician was more 
intelligible to me than to the boy. When J understood him perfectly at once, 
he was sometimes obliged to vary his words to make the hoy comprehend what 
he said." 

^ "A few months after this I had the pleasure of hearing that the person 
alluded to was in better health. Whether he was confined to his bed at the 
time when this experiment was performed I have not been able to ascertain." 



Magic Ilwrors and Images, 825 

He represented each object as appearing less distinct than the pre- 
ceding one, as if his sight were gradually becoming dim : he was 
a minute or more before he could give any account of the persons 
he professed to see towards the close of the performance, and the 
magician said it was useless to proceed with him. Another boy was 
then brought in, and the magic square, etc. made in his hand, but 
he could see nothing. The magician said he was too old. 

" Tliough completely puzzled, I was somewhat disappointed with 
his performances, for they fell short of what he had accomplished in 
many instances in presence of certain of my friends and country- 
men. On one of these occasions, an Englishman present ridiculed 
the performance, and said that nothing would satisfy him but a cor- 
rect description of the appearance of his own father, of whom, he 
was sure, no one of the company had any knowledge. The boy, ac- 
cordingly having called by name for the person alluded to, described 
a man in a Frank dress, with his hand placed to his head, wearing 
spectacles, and with one foot on the ground, and the other raised 
behind him, as if he were stepping down from a seat. The descrip- 
tion was exactly true in every respect : the peculiar position of the 
hand was occasioned by an almost constant headache ; and that of 
the foot or leg by a stitf knee, caused by a fall from a horse in hunt- 
ing. I am assured that, on this occasion, the boy accurately described 
each person and thing that was called for. On another occasion, 
Shakspeare was described with the most minute correctness, both as 
to person and dress ; and I might add several other cases in which 
the same magician has excited astonishment in the sober minds of 
Englishmen of my acquaintance. A short time since, after perform- 
ing in the usual manner by means of a boy, he prepared a magic 
mirror in the hand of a young English lady, who on looking into it 
for a little while said she saw a broom sweeping the ground without 
anybody holding it, and was so much frightened that she would look 
no longer.^ 

^ Lane has remarked that the magician's holding the boy's hand reminds 
one of animal magnetism ; and indeed in all cases where downright imposture 
is not practised, something of this kind — hypnotism, we call it nowadays — 
should account for most of such " manifestations," and this seems confirmed 
by the fact that all boys or youths do not answer the purpose of the magicians. 



826 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

" I have stated these facts/' adds Lane, " partly from my own 
experience and partly as they came to my knowledge on the authority 
of respectable persons. The reader may be tempted to think that in 
each instance the boy saw the images by some reflection in the ink, 
but this was evidently not the case; or that he was a confederate, or 
guided by leading questions. That there was no collusion I satis- 
factorily ascertained, by selecting the boy who performed the part 
above described in my presence from a number of others passing by 
in the street, and by his rejecting a present which I afterwards 
offered him with the view of inducing him to confess that he did not 
really see what he professed to have seen. I tried the veracity of 
another boy on a subsequent occasion in the same manner, and the 
result was the same. The experiment often entirely fails, but when 
the boy employed is right in one case he generally is so in all : when 
he gives at first an account altogether wrong the magician usually 
dismisses him at once, saying that he is too old. The perfumes, or 
excited imagination, or fear, may be supposed to affect the vision of 
the boy who describes objects as appearing to him in the ink ; but, 
if so, why does he see exactly what is required, and objects of which 
he can have had no previous particular notion? Neither I nor 
others have been able to discover any clue by which to penetrate 
the mystery.'^ ^ 

It is significant that in all experiments with tlie ink-mirror the bo}^ sees men. 
or monkeys sometimes, "sweeping the ground " ; and whatever may be thought 
of the subsequent feats of the boy in the case related by Lane, it seems evident 
that the magician's telling the boy what he is to order — such as "bring the 
sultan's tent," "order the soldiers to come," "tell them to bring a bulV and 
so on — would be sufficient to induce the boy, when his will was under the 
magician's control, to believe that he saw these orders executed ; and I wonder 
that Lane did not observe this circumstance. [Since the foregoing was in 
type, I have discovered, from the appendix to later editions of Modern 
Egyptians^ that Lane was soon afterwards convinced that the whole exhibition 
was a piece of trickery, in which his Anglo-Turkish neighbour 'Osman was 
an accomplice of the magician, and he was well qualified to furnish the boy 
with descriptions of Nelson, Shakspeare, and the others. It would almost 
seem that Lane was also deceived by the wretched mummery of the " invoca- 
tion and charm," cut into strips and burnt in a brazier, and the constant 
mutterings of the pretended sorcerer.} 

1 A writer in TaWs Edinhvrgh Magaxine for 1832, vi^ho professes to have 
been present, gives an amusing account of a magician's attempt to exhibit his 
art in Cairo. The boy selected was a Christian, and apparently a member of 
the family. The incense, as usual, was thrown on the fire, while iucanlations 



Magic Mirrors and Images, 327 

Mr. Lane, iDeiiig a bachelor, had no wife regarding whom ho 
might have been curious to know somewhat by means of the minor 
of ink — like the '* sober, intelligent, and credible " friend of the Eev. 
Mr. Glanvil {ante, p. 315), and the unfortunate merchant in onr 
next story : 

An honest !N"eapolitan trader, who happened to be for some 
months on the coast of Africa, about Tunis and in Egypt, became all 
at once anxious to know somewhat of the proceedings of a buxom 
wife he had left behind him at the town of Torre del Greco, not far 
from the city of ISTaples, and was persuaded one night to considt the 
magicians. An innocent boy was procured, as usual, who, when the 
charm began to work, said he saw a woman in a blue jacket that had 
a great deal of gold lace npon it, in a bright yellow robe of ample 
dimensions, with a necklace of coral round her neck, immense rings 
in her ears, and a long silver thing, shaped like an arrow, thrust 
through her hair, which was much bundled on the top of her head. 
In short, he described most accurately the gala dress of the Nea- 
politan's cava sposa, and afterwards her features to the very turn of 
her nose. She was then kneeling by the side of a box, in which was 
seated a man in black, fast asleep. The E'eapolitan knew this mnst 
be the confessional. 

Wlien told to look again, the scene was changed to a very large 
and curious house, such as he had never seen before, all crowded 
with people, and dazzling to the eye from the gilding and the 
number of wax-lights. This the ISTeapolitan knew must mean the 
theatre of San Carlo, the paradise of his countrymen, but he never 
could imagine that his Avife should be there in his absence. She 
was, though, for presently the boy said, " And there I see the woman 
in the blue jacket with a man in a red coat, whispering into her ear." 
" The devil ! " muttered the l^eapolitan to himself. 

" Look again/' said the magician, *' and tell me what you see 
now." '* I can hardly see at all," replied the boy, looking into the 

were pronounced. "Do you see a little man?" asked the magician. The 
boy responded that he saw nothing. Again asked the same question, "Yes,'' 
said he, "I see something." "What is it?" "I see my nose" — reflected in 
the ink by the light of the fire. The experiment was a failure, because, the 
magician alleged, the boy was a Christian. 



828 Magical Eleonenis in the Sgitire's Tale, 

palm of liis hand very closely, "it is so dark ; but now I see a long- 
street, and a large building with iron gratings, and more than a 
dozen skulls stuck at one corner of it ; and a little farther on I see a 
large wide gate, and beyond it a long road ; and now I see the 
woman in the blue jacket, and the man in the red coat, turning 
down the second street to the left of the road ; and now there is an 

old woman opening " 

" I will hear no more ! " shouted the Il^eapolitan, who had heard 
but too correctly described the approach to the " stews " of JSTaples ; 
and he struck the boy's hand with such violence against his face that 
it flattened his nose. The charm was thus dissolved ; but the 
correctness of the magician's revelation was tolerably well proved 
when some time after the Neapolitan suddenly appeared at his home 
in the Torre del Greco, and learned that his wife had eloped with a 
corporal of the guards.^ 

In Southern India, it Avould seem, from the following com- 
munication to Notes and Queries (3rd Series, vol. xL, March 2, 1867, 
p. 180), that the magic minor employed to discover stolen property 
is more elaborately composed than the ink-mirror used in Egypt, 
reminding one of the ingredients of the Witches' broth in Macbeth : 

*' While residing in Tuticorin, in the South of India, it came to 
my knowledge that the Lubbis used the unjun, or shining globule, 
placed in the hand of a boy, to discover hidden treasure or stolen 
l)roperty. This globule is made of castor-oil and lamp-black procured 
from a lamp the wick of which has been made of a piece of wdiite 
cloth, marked with the blood of a cat, an owl, and a king-crow — the 
eyes, some of the hair and feathers, and the gall-bladder of these 
animals being rolled up at the same time in the cloth. Having had 
some property stolen, I sent for a ILiibhi-jachiagary or wizard, who 
promised to recover it, and chose my dog-boy, a lad of eleven years, 
as his assistant. After some preliminary incantations, the boy was 
asked what he saw in the globule. He first described the inside of 
a tent, said he saw monkeys sweeping the floor ; and after gazing 

1 <'True Stories of Necromancy iu Egypt," by C. M. F. (Charles Macfar- 
lane?), in the Metrojiolitan 3J:agazvm, vol. iv., 1832, pp. 250, 251. 



Magic 3Iirrors and Images. 820 

intently on the globule for some minutes got friglitened at something 
and began to cry. The Lubbi on this led him from the room, 
returned in half an hour, and informed me that the missing articles 
Avere under a chest of drawers in my own room, which proved to be 
the case." 

Southey, in his Oarse of Kehaina, xi. 8 — a metrical tale of con- 
siderable interest, though largely the fruit of his extensive reading in 
half-forgotten or little-known books — describes a very singular magic 

mirror as 

a globe of liquid cr5^stal, set 
In frame as diamond bright, yet black as jet. 
A thousand eyes were quench'd in endless night 
To form that magic globe. 

In a later edition he has the following characteristic note on these 
lines : " A similar invention occurs in Dr. Beaumont's Psyche, one 
of the most extraordinaiy poems in our language. I am far from 
claiming any merit for such inventions, which no man can value 
more cheaply, but, such as it is, I am not beholden for it to this 
forgotten writer, whose strange, long, but by no means uninteresting 
work I had never seen till after two editions of Keliama were 
printed." If this were true, it must be considered as a very remark- 
able coincidence ; but, unfortunately for Southey, his notes to later 
editions of his longer poems abound in very similar disclaimers, all 
of which can hardly be accepted, even when he has the courage, or 
policy, to cite identities of thought and expression from older writers, 
after such had already been pointed out by astute reviewers, as he 
has done in this instance of Beaumont's magic mirror, the composition 
of which is thus fancifully and elaborately described : 

A stately mirror's all enamelled case 

The second was ; no crystal ever yet 
Smiled with such pureness ; never ladies' glass 

Its owner flattered with so smooth a cheat. 
Nor could Narcissus' fount with such delight 
Into this fair destruction him invite. 

For he in that and self-love being drowned, 

Agenor from him plucked his doting eyes ; 
And, sliufiied in her fragments, having found 

Old Jezabel's, he stole tlie dog's due prize. 
Goliah's staring basins too he got, 
Which he with Pharaoh's all together put. 



330 Magical Elements in the Sqtiire's Tale. 

But not content witli these, from Phaeton, 

From Joab, Icarus, Nebuchadnezzar, 
From Philip and his world-devouring son, 

From Sylla, Cataline, Tullj^, Pompey, Caasar,^ 
From Herod, Cleopatra, and Sejanus, 
From Agrippina and Domitianus, 

And many surly Stoics, theirs he pulled ; 

Whose proudest humours having drained out, 
He blended in a large and polished mould ; 

Which up he filled with what from heaven he brought, 
In extract of those looks of Lucifer, 
In which against his God he breathed war. 

Then to the North, that glassy kingdom, where 

Established frost and ice for ever reign, 
He sped his course, and meeting Boreas there, 

Pra3^ed him this liquid mixture to restrain. 
When lo ! as Boreas oped his mouth and blew 
For his command, the slime all solid grew. 

Thus was the mirror forged, and contained 

The vigour of those self-admiring eyes 
Agenor's witchcraft into it had strained ; 

A dangerous juncture of proud fallacies. 
Whose fair looks so enamoured him that he, 
Thrice having kissed it, named it Ptolemy. 

Other properties, besides disclosing past, present, or future events, 
are ascribed to mirrors in Eastern popular fictions. The mirror given 
by the king of the genii to Zayn al-Asndm, in the well-known 
Arabian tale, was a certain indicator of female chastity, or its 
opposite : reflecting perfectly the face of a pure virgin before whom 
it was held J but obscurely that of a damsel who was unchaste. — 
In a Nicobar story, given in the Journal of the Bengal Asiatic 
Society (vol. liii., pp. 24-39), the hero receives, from a snake whose 
enemy he had killed, a magic mirror, whose "slaves" (like those of 
the King and the Lamp in the tale of Aladdin) would obey all his 
orders if he only put the key into the keyhole in the case, but he was 
not allowed to open the mirror, as he was too weak to face the spirits 
openly. — In one of the tales in the Turkish story-book, the Forty 
Vezirs (Gibb's translation, p. 244), the hero receives from the king of 
the genii a Chinese mirror which had this important virtue : " If 
thou take it in thy hand and say, * mirror, by the names of God 
that are upon thee, take me to such and such a j^lace,' and shut 
thine eyes, thou wilt find thyself in that place when thou openest 



Magic Mirrors and Images. 831 

them" — a mucli more expeditious mode of travelling tlian that of 
the Magic Horse. 

However the so-called magicians, ancient or modern, performed 
their feats with mirrors, it is very certain that trickery played, the 
chief part, and the Egyptian fellow who exhibited his art before 
E. W. Lane must have been very expert when he conld deceive so 
shrewd a spectator. A worthy English divine, early in the seventeenth 
century, maintained that all such optical illusions were the work of 
Satan. " An illusion," says he, " is two-fold ; either of the outward 
senses or of the minde. An illusion of the outward senses is a work 
of the devill, whereby he makes a man thinke that he heareth, seetli, 
feeleth, or toucheth such things as indeede he doth not. This the 
devill can easily doe divers waies, even by the strength of nature. 
Eor example, by corrupting the instruments of sense, as the humour 
of the eye, &c., or by altering and changing the ayre, which is the 
means whereby we see, and such like. Experience teacheth us, that 
the devill is a skilfull practitioner in this kind, though the meanes 
whereby he worketh such feats be unknowne unto us."^ 

Some Chaucer commentators have compared the Mirror of the 
lady Canace to the ivory tube which occurs in the Arabian tale of 

^ 'J. Discourse of ilie Damned Art of Witchcraft^ so f awe forth as it is 
repealed in the Sorlj}tyres, and Manifest ht/ True Exjjerience, Framed and 
Delivered by M. William Perkins, in his ordinarie course of Preaching/ 
Cambridge, IGIO. Pp. 22, 23. — If this be a fair samjile of the reverend gentle- 
man's "ordinarie course of preachhig," how very pleasant and edifying his 
sermons must have been ! That " silly, conceited bodie " King James had no 
small share in inducing the parsons of his day to vie with eacli other in their 
denunciations of witchcraft. Instead of exhorting the people to fight the devils 
of their own passions, they preached that greatest of all delusions, the existence 
of an actual, personal Devil, whose chief business was to trafHc with poverty- 
stricken, blear-eyed old women. And for tliis they had no warrant in the 
Bible, unless in that mistranslated passage, " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to 
live," and the equally misunderstood incident of Saul and the Witch of Endor. 

It has been truly remarked that the acts of the Inquisition were not more 
diabolical tlian were our laws against witchcraft. Sir John Powell, one of the 
judges of the Court of King's Bench, who died in 1713, was no believer in that 
purely imaginary crime, to his everlasting honour be it remembered; A woman 
named Jane Wenham was tried before him for witchcraft, in proof of which 
her accusers swore that she could fly. '• Prisoner," said the judge, '• can you 
fly ? " "Yes, my lord," answered the deluded creature. " Well, then," said 
he, "you may, for there is no law against flying." Poor Jane thus lost her 
character, but saved her life, for tliis sensible judge would not convict even by 
confession. 



382 Magical Elements i7i the Squire's Tale. 

Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banii; but the property of the latter 
was very different, being that of a telescope rather than of a mirror 
which reflected on its surface coming or occurring events. Says the 
vendor: ^*Thou seest that it is furnished with a piece of glass at 
either end^ and shouldst thou apply one extremity thereof to thine 
eye, thou shalt see what thing soever thou listest, and it shall appf ar 
close by thy side, though parted from thee by many an hundred 
miles." It is probable that in an older form of the story the object 
was a magic mirror, and a telescope was after^vards substituted when 
some knowledge of that instrument had become general in the East.^ 
There is reason to believe that the ancients were acquainted with 
the properties of lenses and mirrors which formed erect or inverted 
images of objects. It is only by the supposition of the use of some 
sort of optical illusions, such as our modern j)hantasmagoria, that we 
can accept as historical facts the many instances recorded by reput- 
able ancient writers of the sudden apparition of splendid palaces and 
blooming gardens, of departed spirits, and even of the gods them- 
selves. The combined sciences of chemistry and optics have often 
produced more wonderful scenes than ever entered the mind of a 
confirmed hashish, bang, or opium eater. In Lytton's Zanoni — for 
the composition of which he prepared himself by a course of reading 
in the works of the old alchemists and astrologers — a young English- 
man desirous of being initiated into the "mysteries" of the Eosi- 
crucians, as a preliminary step, is placed in a room where his nerves 
are permanently wrecked by beholding strange, gibbering, and 
threatening figures on the walls, such as those modern magicians 
could cause to appear '*by their enchantments" — in other words, by 
" natural magic." 

As a pendant to the foregoing notes on Magic Mirrors, etc., I am 
tempted to cite Mrs. Hemans' fine little poem : 
The Magic Glass. 
" The dead ! — the glorious dead ! — and shall they rise ? 
Shall they look on thee with their proud, bright eyes ? 
Thou ask'st a fearful spell 1 

1 In No. 9 of Dr. Barbu Constantinescu's Koumanian- Gipsy collection 
(Bucharest, 1878) it is a mirror, *Mn which when you looked into it you could 
see both the dead and the living." 



Magic Mirroo^s and Images. 333 

Yet say, from shrine or dim sepulchral hall, 
What kingly vision shall obey my call ? 
The deep grave knows it well ! 

" Wouldst thou behold earth's conquerors 1 — shall they pass 
Before thee, flushing all the Magic Glass, 

With Triumph's long array? 
Speak ! and those dwellers in the marble urn, 
Robed for the feast of victory, shall return, 

As on their proudest day, 

" Or wouldst thou look upon the lords of song 1 
O'er the dark Mirror that immortal throng 

Shall waft a solemn gleam ; 
Passing, with lighted eyes and radiant brows, 
Under the foliage of green laurel boughs, 
But silent as a dream." 

" Not these, mighty Master ! — though their lays 
Be unto man's free heart, and tears, and praise 

Hallowed for evermore ; 
And not the buried conquerors — let them sleep, 
And let the flowery earth her sabbaths keep 

In joy from sliore to shore. 

" But if the narrow house may be so moved, 
Call the bright shadows of the most beloved 

Back from their couch of rest ; 
That I may learn if the'u' meek eyes be filled 
With peace, if human love hath stilled 

The yearning human breast." 

" Away, fond youth ! — an idle quest is thine ; 
These have no trophy, no memorial shrine, 

I know not of their place ; 
Midst the dim valleys, with a secret flow, 
Their lives, like shepherds' reed-notes, faint and low, , 

Have passed and left no trace. 

" Haply, begirt with shadowy woods and hills, 
And the wild sounds of melancholy rills. 

Their covering turf may bloom : 
But ne'er hath Fame made relics of its flowers — 
Never hath pilgrim sought their household bowers. 

Or poet hailed their tomb." 

"Adieu, then, Master of the midnight spell ! 
Some voice, perchance, by those lone graves may tell 

That which I pine to know ! 
I haste to seek from woods and vallej^s deep, 
Where the belov'd are laid in lowly sleep, 
Records of joy and woe 1 " 



384 Magical Mements in the Squire's Tale, 

Pap %mp m\b §mw. 

FiNGER-EiNGS have always been held in tlie highest estimation 
in all countries, apart from any intrinsic value they might possess. 
They are convenient, and at the same time sufficiently conspicnons, 
to be used as symbols of the wearers' rank or condition. In the 
love-illumined eyes of the maiden, her " engagement " ring is sug- 
gestive of the unutterable joys of wedlock — it is the pride of her 
heart, and the envy of her " dearest " friends who are as yet 
" unattached." The plain little golden hoop which is slipped on her 
finger at the altar — why, she will know better than any one else 
what its value is, and what it means, a few short months afterwards 1 
But I have nought to do wdth rings of that kind, either personally or 
in my present capacity of a Immble worker in the great Chaucerian 
diamond fields. My business is to treat of signet-rings and gems, 
so far as concern the magical properties which have been ascribed to 
tliem from very ancient times. There is no call to recite the well- 
worn tale of the Ring of Poly crates j but the Signet-Eing of Solomon, 
though it met with a very similar adventure, must by no means be 
passed over, albeit I have repeated the legend more than once else- 
where. For in speaking of magical rings, it would be " the play of 
Hamlet with the Prince of Denmark omitted " were one to leave out 
Solomon's Ring, w^hich is, far and away, the most important of all 
magical rings or gems that ever made the impossible an accomplished 
fact ; made rivers roll back to their sources ; golden, gem-becrusted 
palaces and gardens spring up in the place of sandhills, causing " the 
wilderness to blossom like the rose " ; changed the beggar in his 
tatters to the prince in his dazzling robes — the veritable " King of 
Diamonds " ! All these marvels, and ten thousand more, have been 
done through the virtue of Solomon's Ring. The touch of Midas 
was nothing in comparison with that most powerful of all talis- 
mans ever possessed by man — in story-books. The most formidable 
obstacles — gates of triple steel or adamant — in presence of that 
talisman became as wax before the fire ; mountains were as mole- 
hills ; raging seas became flowery meadows; even the mighty jinn 
(genii) were rendered weak as babes and sucklings by its magic 



Magic Rings and Gems, 335 

power; for on it was engraved the Most Great Name {El-Ism el- 
Aazam), the Ineiffable Name of Allah. ^ By the power of this 
wondrous talisman Solomon subdued the demons and jinn ; and the 
few who continued obstinately rebellious he confmed in copper 
vessels, which, after sealing them with his signet, he caused to be 
cast into the Lake of Tiberias, there to remain till the Judgment 
Day — unless, perchance, its waters should dry up and some treasure- 
seeker break open the vessels (like the Fisherman in the Arabian 
tale), and that would be a dire mishap, for I trow that we have 
already in this world of ours devils enough and " lashins over." 

But — will it be credited 1 — Solomon once actually lost this price- 
less, matchless treasure ! Regarding that well-nigh fatal calamity 
there are (as is not unusual in the case of affairs of great moment) 
two different accounts, and as these have about equal claims to be 
true^ some readers may like to know both. According to one version, 
then, Solomon had imprisoned a powerful demon called Aschmedai 
{== Asmodeus : the same who figures so prominently in the scrib- 
blings of mediaeval necromancers, astrologers, and such-like rogues, or 
wittols), whom he questioned eagerly every day, on matters of high 
import in the art of magic, and who returned the required infurma- 
tion willingly enough, till one day he so excited Solomon's curiosity 
that he persuaded the — for once, at least — heedless monarch to lend 
him his signet "for a minute or two," after which he would satisfy 
him with full particulars. Alack ! no sooner had the fiend grasped 
the talisman than his master's power was gone. Aschmedai then 
gulped down the sage king of Israel, and, stretching his wings,^ flew 
hundreds of leagues before he " shot " out Solomon on a vast desert 
plain, and assuming the king's form sat upon the throne of Israel, 

^ The Jewish cabalists, as well as the Muslims, entertain the most extrava- 
gant notions as to the efficacy of the Ineffable Name, whether pronounced or 
written on any object ; all the more so, because not one man of a million 
knows what that name is ; and that man must have gone through an unheard- 
of amount of severe study. 

2 '* Gentle reader " — a good old gentlemanly i)hrase, which should never have 
gone out of fashion — recollect the picture, in our boyhood's editions of the 
Pilgrim's Progress, of Apollyon in his fight with John Bunyan (with Christian, 
I should say, perhaps, but it's all the same), and you have an idea of Aschmedai's 
wing i — like those of a gigantic bat ! 

LANE, Z 



336 Magical EUmenU in the Squires Tale. 

v/here much evil and no good did lie, I ween. And now Solomon 
went about, a poor beggar man, witli a staff in liis hand and bare- 
footed ; and his constant cry was : -^ I, Solomon, was once king over 
Israel." Of course the folk thought him a demented creature — '* a 
puir daft auld man" — but, coming at length into Jerusalem, with his 
usual cry, like the eternal " haqq ! haqq ! '' of the rogues of dervishes 
in the streets of Ispahan, some of the fathers and elders of the city, 
reflecting that a fool is never constant in his tale, thought there 
might be something in it, after all ; more especially as he who sat 
on the throne was of late far from being distinguished by virtuous 
words and actions. So it was determined now to test him — for they 
had begun to suspect that he was not what he seemed to be — by 
reading before him out of the Book of the Law. But hardly had 
two words been pronounced when Aschmedai, re-assuming his own 
form, flew away with loud shrieks and yells — leaving the magical 
signet behind him, we must suppose, for I rather think nothing is 
said on this point. And thus did Solomon regain his kingdom ; and 
doubtless he felt himself a better and wiser man from his experience 
as a tramp. 

The other version is to this eflrect : Solomon having taken captive 
in his wars the daughters of several idolatrous kings whom he had 
conquered, he selected the best-looking of them, and placed them in 
his harem ; and as soon as he became weary of his latest favourite 
he fell deeply in love with one of those daughters of the heathen : 
surely no man had ever greater cause to cry out, as he did, ^^ stay me 
with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love ! " It 
was not long before this damsel (she was no ^' painted Jezebel," as 
ive understand the term, be sure) got the upper hand of her royal 
lover, and induced him to bow the knee to false gods. But ^N^emesis 
was at hand, in the form of a rebellious demon named Sakhr, who 
had, for some time, been lurking unseen about the harem chambers, 
watching for his opportunity, which came one day, even as retribu- 
tion must, sooner or later, come upon all evil-doers. One morning 
Solomon, before going to the bath, gave his signet to this Moabitish 
woman (or whatever she may have been) to keep for him. Mean- 
while the demon Sakhr assumed the form of Solomon and sat on his 



Ifagic Rings and Gems. 337 

throne ; and when the king came forth from the bath, behold, his 
appearance was so changed that nobody recognized him — in fact, as 
ice say, " his mother wouldn't have known him " — and so he was 
ignonnniously driven out of the city. The legend goes on to say 
that Solomon went into a far distant land and took service with some 
fisliermen, his daily wages being two fishes. Now it so fortuned 
that as he was cleaning his fish one evening he found his own signet 
in the maw of one of them ; and we may well suppose that he did 
not take the trouble to formally '* resign his situation," but went off in 
hot haste to the Holy City,^ where he learned (his proper appearance 
being now restored) that Sakhr's doings at length had become so 
intolerable that he had been tested with the Book of the Law and at 
once flew away. Solomon doubtless readily guessed that the detected 
demon had thrown the signet into the sea, while still '^ pricked in 
conscience" (if we might think such a thing possible) by having 
heard a few of the holy words pronounced ; and that the fish which 
had so luckily swallowed the glittering ring knew full w^ell what and 
whose it was, and paddled off at top-speed to the waters in which 
the royal fisher daily cast his net, into which it went, of its own 
accord, of course. If Solomon did not guess all this, I do, and I 
think it quite as worthy of credence as what goes before it. — Another 
version of this version has it that Solomon, in the course of his 
wanderings, eloped with a pretty young princess, and became a cook, 
when he found that they couldn't live solely on love ; and that it 
was while dressing some fish for his master's table that he found his 
signet. But — n'lmjjorte I — " either way will do " 1 

Both Jews and Muslims extol Solomon as the greatest adept in 
magic that ever lived : there was nothing he did not know, nothing 
he could not do. And they are in some measure justified in holding 
such a belief by his own boasts of what he had seen *' under the 
sun." Their tales and legends of his wisdom, learning, and skill in 
magic are legion. According to the Muslims, the most binding oath 

^ Once more in possession of his magical signet, he would, naturally, summon 
his subject demons, or jinn, and ''cover the distance" even more rapidly than 
could the Horse of Brass at his best. 

Z 2 



338 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale, 

on a genie is to swear him by Solomon's Seal, for the breach of that 
oath is always followed by a terrible punishment. — That Solomon 
had a signet-ring is beyond all question ; he could have done no 
more without it, as a monarch, or even as one of the humblest 
scribes of his household, than a cobbler could work without his awl. 
That his signet was inscribed with magical characters is more than 
probable. For he would certainly have mauy private conferences 
with the gentlemen who came in the train of the Princess of Egypt, 
by whom he might have been — and very likely he was — instructed, 
if not exactly '' in all the knowledge of the Egyptians," at least in 
Egyptian magic, which, perhaps, really comprised the greatest part 
of the ^■' learning " of that ancient people. 

Solomon's Ring plays a part in such a vast number of Eastern 
romances and tales that — as in the case of certain " relics " shown in 
several continental churches and convents — we are forced to con- 
clude, either that they are all frauds or (what indeed is quite likely) 
that that wondrous talisman has the virtue of multiplying itself 
indefinitely. In one of the Persian romances edited by me and 
privately printed lately, the hero, Farrukhruz, obtains a ring from 
the king of the jinn, accompanied by the following " neat " address : 
^'Take this ring, which has been kept for many ages in the treasury 
of my ancestors,^ and the possession of which is connected with 
numerous blessings. Keep it always on your finger, and it will 
preserve you from all misfortunes, except when you are in a state of 
ceremonial un cleanness, because the Ineffable Name is written on it, 
and if you keep it with you when in such a condition you will 
become subject to fits of epilepsy and lunacy, and it will return to 
our treasury, nor will any mortal be able to cure you except our- 
selves. Whenever any diflicalty occurs to you, turn the ring on 
the forefinger of your right hand, and ask aid of the spirit of 
Sulayman (on whom be blessing !), when instantly a genie will make 
liis appearance, to whom you may entrust any service, and he will 

^ Thongti the jinn, 'ifrits, and marids, of Arabian mythology, and the di'vs 
and peris, of the Persian, live to an age far exceeding that of ''old Methiisalem," 
yet they are not immortal, but die at last, like human beings, of old age, if their 
lives have not been cut shorter by accident. 



Magic Rings and Gems. 339 

accomplish it. But you must not let it be seen by wicked demons, 
who are the sworn enemies of mankind, lest they should deprive you 
of this talisman." Farrukhriiz loses the ring by a vile trick of the 
spiteful sister of the queen of the fairies, who is enamoured of him, 
and — as the king of the genii foretold — he becomes delirious for 
some time, and when he somewhat recovers he finds himself changed 
to an old barber in Damascus, in the act of shaving a customer 1 
But all ends well, notwithstanding.^ 

If the Eing of Solomon does not really multiply itself — like 
Krishna among the cowherdesses — perhaps it changes owners very 
frequently. However this may be, it seems to have found its way to 
Europe, as witness the following detailed and interesting account of 
merely a few of its qualities, by the Hell-Maiden in the Esthonian 
st(ay of ** The iS^orthern Dragon " : 

''Here is my greatest treasure, the like of which is not to be 
found in all the world ; it is a costly golden ring. . . . No living 
man is now able entirely to explain the power of this ring, because 
nobody can fully interpret the mysterious signs engraved upon it. 
But, even though I only half understand them, I can work wonders 
which no other living creature can imitate. If I put the ring on the 
little finger of my left hand,^ I can rise in the air like a bird and fly 
about wherever I will. If I put the ring on the ring-finger of my 
left hand, I become invisible to every one, and I myself can perceive 
everything which passes around me. If I put the ring on the 
middle finger of my left hand, neither sharp weapons, nor water, nor 

^ Clouston's Group of Eastern Romances and Stories (1889), pp. 163, 164 ; 
168 ft'. 

^ The reader will be so good as observe that in this case the Ring is to be 
worn on the left hand, while in the case of the Persian hero last cited it is to be 
worn on the right hand. And there is a reason for this difference. In Europe 
rings commonly adorn the left hand, as being more convenient, especially when 
there's much hand-shaking, or work, to be done ; while in the East the left hand 
is regarded, on account of certain purposes for which it is solely used, as unclean. 
It is the right hand that is cut off as punishment of theft ; and I daresay many 
of my readers will call to mind the story, in the Arabian Nights, of the young 
gentleman who — to the surprise of his guest, till he heard his story — ate his 
food with his left hand, keeping the sleeve of his robe over the place where his 
right hand should have been. 



3i0 Magical Elements in the Bqiiire's Tale, 

fire can hurt me. If I put the ring on the forefinger of my left 
hand, I can procure all things that I require with its aid : I can 
build houses in a moment, and obtain other things. As long as I 
wear the ring on the thumb of my left hand, my hand is strong 
enough to shatter walls and rocks. Moreover, the ring bears other 
mysterious symbols, which, as I said, no one has yet been able to 
interpret; but it may be supposed that they include many other 
mighty secrets. In ancient days the ring belonged to King Solomon, 
the wisest of kings, and during whose reign the wisest men lived. 
But up to the present day it remains unknown whether the ring was 
constructed by divine power or by the hands of men ; but it is 
supposed that an angel gave the ring to the wise king." 



And now we have done with the wondrous Eing of Solomon, the 
importance of which in romantic fiction might, perhaps, sufficiently 
justify the foregoing notes and comments, even did not our Chaucer 
himself specially refer to it, in connection with the lady Canaee's 
Eing, in these words : 

Tho \i. e. then] speeken they of Canacee's ryng, 
And seyden alle, that such a wonder thing 
Of craft of ringes herd they never noon, 
Saiif that he Moyses and kyng Salamon 
Hadden a name of connyng in such art. 

The virtue of the so-called Eing of Moses was that, when it was 
drawn on any one's finger, he at once forgot his love, and in fact 
everything, hence it was called the Eing of Oblivion — a useful article 
to have about one, I think, in these days of '' fierce unrest," when 
the pleasant things most of us can remember are so few that their 
loss would be amply compensated hj the relief it would afford from 
the incursion of sad and bitter — ay, and sometimes humiliating — ■ 
memories. It may be objected that the consequence of an application 
of Moses' Eing would be that one should then lose the " conscious 
continuation of his identity," but would not that be a great benefit to 
many of us? Is it not in that same ^^ continuation of identity " that 
our selfdove has its existence 1 Self-love is a good thing only when 



Magic Bings and Gems. 841 

we have learned to " li3ve our neighbours as ourselves." But let this 
pass, and pass we on to our proper business. ^ 

Besides the Eing with the making of which Moses was credited 
in mediaeval times, it would seem that many other rings possessed the 
quality of causing the owners to forget just what they should have 
best remembered, as soon as they parted with them. Eeaders 
familiar with European folk-tales will recollect numerous instances 
of a young prince — in popular tales the hero is usually either a 
young prince or a young pauper — having, in the course of his 
adventures, become enamoured of some pretty little maid, and, on 
leaving her to return home, giving her his ring as a pledge that he^d 
come back soon and marry her ; and how he forgot the little maid 
the moment he stepped over his father's threshold, and was actually 
seated at table beside another bride (their nuptials not having yet 
been solemnized, however), when the forgotten little maid, who had 
procured something to do in the palace-kitchen, contrived to drop his 
own ring into his cup of wine, and so forth. It is true that some- 
times the maid stipulates that her lover should kiss no person as he 
enters his home, otherwise he'd forget her altogether, but generally, 
I imagine, the ring has somewhat to do with the forget fulness. 

Not to multiply instances of this kind of '^ oblivion," I shall only 
refer to the plot of the celebrated Hindu drama of SaMntald, which 
turns upon a lost ring. The rdja Dushmant^, while hunting, is 
separated from his attendants, and falls in love with a beautiful 
maiden, called Sakiintala, who has been brought up in the forest by 
a holy man. The king marries her by what is known as the 
Gdndharva form, in which the usual ceremonies are dispensed with, 
and when his attendants at last discover him, before returning to 
his capital he gives her his signet-ring. But he totally forgets this 
most interesting episode for years : Sakiintal4 has lost the ring, and 

1 I cannot help here remarking, however, that perhaps many a man might 
find something more practicable than Rings of Oblivion and Magic MuTors were 
he to try to follow the counsel of the great American poet : " Look not mourn- 
fully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. 
It is thine. Go boldly forth into the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a 
manly heart." 



342 Magical Elements in the Sqnires Tale, 

when she presents herself, with her child, before him, he does not 
recognize her. One day a large roldta fish is brought to the palace, 
and the cook in cutting it open finds the royal signet in its inside, 
and sends it to the rdjd, who instantly recollects the forest adventure, 
and sending for the fisherman who had brought the roJdta, he 
questions him regarding the ring. The poor man, of course, knows 
nothing about it — all he could say was that having caught a very 
fine ToMta, he deemed it fit only for the royal table. In the sequel 
SakiintaM is united to R4j4 Dushmanta.-^ 

The magical properties popularly ascribed to rings — or rather the 
gems which are set in them—and to precious stones generally are 
far-reaching : it may be truly said that there is scarcely an evil, 
moral or physical, which one or other of them cannot cure or avert. 
In John Lydgate's Troy Book, when Jason is about to fight the 
brazen bull, and lull the dragon to sleep, he receives from Medea a 
ring in which was a gem that had the virtues of destroying the 
efficacy of poison and of rendering the wearer invisible. This second 
quality of the gem is similar to that of the Eing of Gyges. 

In the well-known tale of Jonathas, chap, 46 of Swan's transla- 
tion of the Gesta Romanorum^ a father bequeaths his youngest son, 
inter alia, a ring which " won the wearer the love of all men." — The 
49th of Doni's novelle is to the effect that Charlemagne became so 
deeply enamoured of a lady that he neglected state afiairs altogether. 
The fair one died suddenly, much to the relief of the court. But the 
king caused her body to be embalmed and clothed in purple and 
decorated with gems ; and he visited the dead body constantly, neg- 
lecting every duty. The bishop of Cologne heard a voice from 
heaven, saying that under the mouth of the dead one was hidden the 
cause of the king's infatuation. He goes unobserved, and finds a 
little gem-ring, which he takes away. The king's love is suddenly 
transferred to the bishop, who at last throws the ring into a marsh for 

^ As the above rough outline of this fine drama is sketched from memory, 
not having '* at this present writing" any means 'of access to Sir Monier 
Williams' elegant translation, I trust any inaccuracies there may be in it will 

be pardoned. 



Magic Rings and Gems, 343 

safety ; but the king takes a violent fancy for the spot, and builds a 
palace and temple there, and there spends the rest of his life. 

Hatim Tai, the generous pre-Isl4mite Arab chief, having slain a 
monstrous dragon, took from its head a gem^ which had several 
marvellous virtues : it could cure the blind ; confer profound wisdom 
and boundless wealth ; secure victory in battle ; and cause its pos- 
sessor, to be loved alike by friend or foe. 

In the Indian story-book Sinlidsana Dioatrinsati (or rather in 
its Hindi form, Sinhdsan Battisi)^ Eiija Vikramddityd, on taking his 
conge from Sheshanaga, king of the infernal regions — a very pleasant 
place, according to the description given of it in the tale — whom he 
had been visiting, is presented with four gems. " One of these,'' 
said King Sheshanaga, *'will produce at a moment's notice any 
ornaments you may desire ; the second, elephants, horses, and palan- 
quins ; by means of the third you may obtain wealth to any extent ; 
and the fourth will assist you in offering prayer and in practising 
virtue." Vikrdma then summoned his attendant demons — for, like 
Solomon, all sorts of demons were at his command — who conveyed 
him back to his own country ; and when within about two miles 
of his capital he dismissed them and continued his journey on 
foot. Meeting with a poor Brahman who asked alms of him, 
Vikrama said: ^^0 venerable man, you may have your choice of 
any of these four gems," and then he explained their respective 
qualities. The Brahman replied that he should like first to go home 
and consult his family. So he went home, and Vikrama waited his 
return. The Brdhman informed his wife, son, and daughter-in-law 
of the properties of the four jewels. His wife advised him to choose 
the one that supplied money, for wealth brings friends, learning, 
piety, merit, and charity. ^ The son would have him choose the 
stone that bestowed dignity and fame. The daughter-in-law pre- 
ferred the gem that furnished ornaments. Then said the Brahman : 

- The notion that dragons and serpents have vahiable gems in their heads is 
commonly held throughout the East at the present day, and was once also 
general throughout Europe. 

2 Is not this meant to be sarcastic? Certainly, in one sense, *'he who has 
wealth has relations ; he who has wealth has friends ; he who has wealth is a 
very sage ! " 



344 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale, 

" You are all very foolish. I will clioose tlie gem which will assist 
me in my devotion " ; and returning to the raj 4 he told him how his 
family could not agree upon the particular gem to he selected. Vik- 
rama then gave all the four gems to the poor Brahman, who blessed 
him and went away.^ 

In the Japanese romance of The Old Bamhoo-Heiver, of the tenth 
century (translated by Mr. E. Victor Dickins), we read of a dragon 
that has in its head " a jewel, rainbow-hued, and he who shall win it 
shall want nothing that he may desire.'* And in Mr. Mitford's 
Tales of Old Japan, Little Peachling finds among the treasures in 
the ogres' castle "gems which governed the ebb and flow of the 
tide." — In the Eomance of Hatim Tai, there is mentioned a stone 
which, bound on the arm, enabled one to see all the gold and silver 
and gems hidden in the bowels of the earth. And, coming back to 
Europe at a single bound, in one of the Early English versions of the 
Gesta Romanorum, a poor faggot-maker is rewarded by a grateful ser- 
pent, whom he had succoured, with a stone of three colours, which, 
he w^as informed by the "stoner" (or jeweller) to whom he sub- 
mitted it, possessed three virtues, " bestowing evermore joy without 
heaviness, abundance without fail, and light without darkness." 

But the " stone of three colours " (probably meaning, three stones 
of different colours) wd)ich was set in the ring of Reynard the Fox, 
and the loss of which he laments, w^as endowed with a greater 
variety of useful qualities than a round dozen of any other gems 
combined. He declares that he possessed ^*a rynge of fyn golde, 
and within the rynge next the fyngre were wreton lettres enameld 
with sable and asure, and ther were thre hebrews names therin." 
Reynard could not read or spell them, but a ^^jew, Maister Abrion, 
of Tryer, a wyse man . . . albeit he beleueth not on God," ^ to whom 
he showed the ring, told him they were the three names that Seth 

^ The renowned Duke Huon of Bordeaux, according to the romance which 
records his chivalrie exploits, gathered some stones from the bed of an under- 
ground river, one of which preserved its bearer from poison, another from fire 
and sword, a third from all discomfort and old age, a fourth cured blindness, and 
a fifth rendered its owner invisible. 

2 "Honest" Reynard meant, no doubt, that "Maister Abrion" did not 
believe in Jesus Christ. 



Magic Rings and Gems. 34^5 

brought out of Paradise when lie fetched his father Adam the Oil of 

Mercy. ^ " And whom someuer bereth on hym thise thre names he 

shal neuer be hurte by thondre ne lyghtnyng ; ne no witchcraft shal 

haue power ouer hym, ne be tempted to doo synne. And also he 

shal neuer take harm by colde, though he laye thre wynters longe 

nyglitis in the feelde, though it snowed, stormed or froze, neuer so 

sore. So grete myght haue thise wordes : wytnes of Maister Abrion. 

•*Withought forth on the rynge stode a stone of thre maner 

colours ; the one part was lyke rede cristalle, and shoon lyke as fyre 

had ben therin, in such wyse that yf one wold goo by nyght, hym 

behoued non other lighte, for the shynyng of the stone made and 

gaf as grete a light as it had ben mydday. That other parte of the 

stone was whyte and clere, as it had ben burnysshid. Who so had 

in his eyen ony smarte or sorenes, or in his body ony swellynge or 

heed ache, or ony sykenes without forth, yf he stryked this stone on 

the place wher the gryef is, he shal anon be hole ; or yf ony man be 

seke in his body of venym, or ylle mete in his stomach, of colyk, 

stran guy lion, stone, fystel, or hanker, or any other sekenes, sauf only 

the very deth, late hym leye this stone in a litle watre, and late 

hym drynke it, and he shal forthwyth be hole, and quyte of his 

sekenes. . . . Forthemore the thirde colour was grene, lyke glas, but 

ther were somme sprynklis therin lyke purpure. The maister told 

for trouthe, that who that bare this stone vpon hym shold neuer be 

hurte of his enemye, and that noman, were he neuer so stronge and 

hardy, that myght mysdoo hym ; and where euer that he fought he 

shold haue victorye, were it by nyght or daye, also ferre as he beheld 

it fastyng; and also therto where someuer he wente, and in what 

felawship, he shold be bylouyd, though they hadde hated hym to fore ; 

yf he had the ring vpon hym, they shold forgete theyr aiigre as sone 

as they sawe hym. Also though he were al naked, in a felde agayn 

an hondred armed men, he shold be wel herted, and escape fro them 

with worship. But he moste be a noble^ gentle man, and haue no 

chorles condicions, for thenne the stone had no myght." 

1 Seth went to Paradise to obtain for his father some of the Oil of Compas- 
sion, wMcli exuded from the Tree of Life, but the angel refused his request, and 
so Adam laid himself upon his mother's lap and died. — See Apocryphal Gospels 
&c., translated by Alex. Walker : *'Tlie Revelation of Moses." 



346 Magical MeQiients in the Sqtcire's Tale. 

Altogether apart from " magic " gems^ it was popularly believed 
that every precious stone had inherently a virtue, or virtues, of its 
own. Eeginald Scot has favoured us with a few examples : 

'' An agat (they saie) hath ver'tue against the biting of scorpions 
or serpents. It is written (but I will not stand to it) that it maketh 
a man eloquent, and procureth the favour of princes ; yea that the 
fume thereof doth turne awaie tempestes. Alectorius is a stone 
about the bignesse of a beane, as cleare as the christall, taken out of 
a cocks bellie which hath beene gelt or made a capon four years. If 
it be held in one's mouth, it asswageth thirst, it maketh the husband 
to loue the wife, and the bearer invincible : for hereby Milo was said 
to ouercome his enemies. . . . Amethysus maketh a dronken man 
sober, and refresheth the wit. The corall preserveth such as bare it 
from fascination or bewitching, and in this respect they are hanged 
about children's necks," and so forth. ^ 

But such notions are scouted — or doubted — by Sir Thomas 
Browne, though even he was not always superior to the ^^ vulgar 
errors " he attempted to correct : 

'* That cornelians^ jaspis, heliotropes, and bloodstones may be of 
vertue to those intentions they are employed, experience and visible 
effects will make us grant. But that an amethyst prevents inebria- 
tion ; that an amethyst will break if worn during copulation ; that a 
diamond laid under the pillow will betray the inconstancy of a wife ; 
that a sapphire is preservative against all enchantments ; that the 
fume of an agate will avert a tempest, or the wearing of a chryso- 
phrase make one out of love with gold, as some have delivered, we 
are yet, I confess, to believe, and in that infidelity are likely to end 
our days. "2 

Southey, in TJialaha the Destroyer , B. iii. 1, makes one of the 

characters thus describe the natural properties of some precious 

stones : ^ 

Every gem, 

So sages say, hath virtue, but the science 

1 The Discouerie of Witchcraft, by Reginald Scot ; 1684 ; B. xiii. eh. 6, p. 
293 f. 

2 Sir Thomas Browne's Enquirie into Vulgar and Common Errors (1646) ; 
Wilkins' ed., 1825, ch, v. 



Magic Rings and Gems. 347 

Of difficult attainment ; some grow pale, 
Conscious of poison, or with sudden change 
Of darkness warn the wearer ; some preserve 
From spells, or blunt the hostile weapon's edge ; 
Some open rocks and mountains, and lay bare 
Their buried treasures ; others make the sight 
Strong to perceive the presence of those beings 
Through whose pure essence as through empty air 
The unaided eye would pass. 

It would occupy too much space and time to discuss the subject 
of snake-gems — a survival, undoubtedly, of the serpent cult, which 
at one period prevailed all over the world. In European folk-tales, 
as well as in Asiatic fictions, the hero is often represented as saving a 
snake from being burned or frozen to death, and obtaining as a reward 
a stone or gem which works wonders. Most of the astonishing 
achievements of Aladdin's Lamp are in other tales, both Western and 
Eastern, performed by a snake-stone, though the gem is not always 
bestowed by a serpent. In the Tamil romance translated by Pandit 
Natesa Sastri, under the title of Dravidian Nights^ Entertainments, 
a fortunate youth obtains from an ichneumon, whom he had fostered 
for some time, a ring, which he has only to put on his finger and 
wish for anything, when it will instantly appear before him. By the 
power of this ring, a vast city is raised up in the heart of a jungle. 
Variants of this tale are found in the Burmese story-book, the Decisions 
of Princess Thoo-Dhamma Tsari ; in the Kalmuk Relations of Siddhi 
Kur ; in No. 10 of M. Dozon's Contes Albanais, and several other 
collections. In many of the stories of this class the hero's talisman 
is stolen from him, and, like Aladdin when the African magician 
exchanged ^^new lamps for old" to his own advantage, the palaces, 
&c., at once disappear, but, by the help of three grateful animals, 
who are attached to the hero from his kindness towards them, the 
wonder-working stone is ultimately recovered. — Here I conclude my 
notes on magic rings and gems in general, and proceed to the subject 
which is more especially suggested by the peculiar virtue of the lady 
Canace's ring. 



848 Magical Elements in the Sqitires Tale, 

The third gift wliich the Indian ambassador presented from his 

royal master, ^Hhe king of Araby and Ind," was the golden Eing 

which, at his unexpected entrance on horseback into the banqneting 

|iall, he was observed to wear on his thmnb, as usual ; and, having 

disposed of the previous two gifts, he thus goes on to describe its 

qualities : 

''The vertu of this ryng, if ye wol hc;-rCj 
Is this, that who so lust it for to were 
Upon Mr thomh, or in hir purs to here, 
Ther is no foul that fieeth under the heven, 
That sche ne schal understonden his stevcn, 
And know his nienyng openly and pleyu, 
And answer him in his laugage ageyn. 
And every gras that grow^eth upon roote 
Sche schal eek know, to whom it wol do boote, 
Al be his woundes never so deep and wyde. " 

In a German tale there is a ring having the same property : A prince 
comes to a castle where all the people are fast asleep (enchanted *?) ; 
and in a hall of the castle he finds a table on which lay a golden 
ring, and this inscription was on the table : " Whoever puts this ring 
in his mouth shall understand the language of birds." He after-- 
wards puts the ring in his mouth, and by understanding what three 
crows are saying one to another is saved from death. ^ 

According to Lane {Arabian Niglds, i. p. 35), Muslims '* still 
believe that all kinds of birds and many (if not all) beasts have a 
language by which they communicate their thoughts to each other.'' 
This notion is by no means peculiar to Muslims, but prevails through- 
out the East generally, and it was also held in Europe duriug the 
Middle Ages. That many kinds of what we are pleased to consider 
as " the lower animals " do possess some means, more or less perfect, 
of communicatiug with one another — particularly of warning their 
companions of danger and of calling them to a certain spot — is most 
certain ; but variations of an inarticulate cry do not surely constitute 
language; though, after all, we really do not know to what extent 

^ Mr. J. G. Frazer (quoting Wolff's DeiUsche Ilausmdrchen), in a very abie 
paper on the Language of Animals, in the Archceological Review ^ vol. i. p. 163. 



Language of Animals. 349 

the more intelligent beasts and birds are capable of interchanging 
their ideas — for ideas they have, undoubtedly, and some of them are 
much more intelligent than many human beings. In the Esthonian 
song of Wannemune it is said : '' At first not only men but even beasts 
enjoyed the gift of speech. Nowadays there are but few people who 
understand beast-language and hearken to their communications." 
The notion is very ancient. Both the Eabbis and Muslim doctors 
agree that Solomon was past master in the language of all kinds of 
living creatures, down to the humble but industrious ant — whose 
'* ways " he seems to have " considered " carefully, though, probably, 
not with the scientific eye of Sir John Lubbock 1 It was a hoopooe, 
or lapwing, that brought Solomon an account of the city of Saba (the 
Sheba of our English Bible) and of the beautiful and accomplished 
queen who ruled over it. And indeed the sage Hebrew monarch 
himself would seem to indicate his belief in (if not his knowledge of) 
bird-language, when he says, in his Book of Ecclesiastes, x. 20, that 
" a bird of the air shall tell the matter.'' 

Serpents are, somehow, generally represented in folk-tales as 
possessing a knowledge of the language of animals, and of imparting 
the same to their benefactors. We have high authority for the 
expression " loise as serpents," but I know of none that should induce 
us to consider them as also learned. It is related of Melampus that 
*' one day, while he was asleep under an oak tree, some serpents came 
and cleaned his ears with their tongues, and when he awoke he was 
surprised to find that he understood the language of birds and knew 
all the secrets of nature." Among the absurdities so foolishly 
ascribed by the Younger Pliny to Democritus — and so unsparingly 
condemned by Aulus Gellius, as being utterly inconsistent with the 
character of that philosopher — is that he asserted "if the blood of 
certain birds be mingled together, the combination will produce a 
serpent, of which whoever eats will become endowed with the gift of 
understanding the language of birds." — In the Edda, where is found 
the oldest form of the Siegfried legend, we read that Sigurd after 
slaying the dragon Fafnir proceeds to roast the monster's heart. He 
puts in his finger to see if it is ready, and burning it applies it to his 
mouth in order to assuage the pain, when he immediately found that 



350 Magical JElements in the Squire's Tale, 

he knew the birds' languagej and as one result of this newly -acquired 
knowledge he takes warning of approaching danger from the con- 
versation of some eagles. And Eric the Wise is also said, in the 
Eddas, to have learned to understand the language of animals by 
eating a soup made of snake's flesh. 

It was from the Moors in Spain, says William of Malmesbury, 
that Gerbert, afterwards Pope Sylvester III., learned the meaning of 
the cries and the flight of birds. ^ That the dabblers in the occult 
sciences — necromancers, astrologers, et hoc genus omne — possessed 
some sort of formula by which they believed (or made others believe) 
the voices of beasts and birds, especially the latter, could be inter- 
preted is, I think, highly probable; for even the professed cheater 
must have some specious modus operandi. I am far from believing, 
however, that the students of magic, alchemy, and astrology in the 
Middle Ages, and much later, were all conscious impostors. It is 
very well known that many a fair domain and enormous sums of 
money disappeared in the alchemist's crucible and alembic, in the 
strong faith of discovering the secrets of converting the baser metals 
to pure gold, and of concocting the elixir vike — the waters of the 
Fountain of Everlasting Youth condensed into a one-ounce phial, so 
to speak ! But there were not a few arrant rogues among them, as 
full of canning tricks as a modern Egyptian sharper— witness the 
tube filled with gold, used, by Eaymond Lully and other gentry like 
him, in stirring the molten lead, after the " powder of projection " 
was thrown in, thus producing under the very eyes of their credulous 
patrons a small bit of the precious metal, as a specimen of their art 1 
— I was going to say, before this digression dropped from my pen, 
that there can be little doubt but that at Cordova and other Arabian 
colleges the " science " of bird-language was taught along with 
cognate mysteries. 

I do not ask Jean Jacques Eoiisseau, 
If birds confabulate or no ; 
'Tis very clear that they were able 
To hold discourse — at least in fable — 

^ Gerbert is said to have acquired a much more tlseful piece of knowledge 
at Cordova, namely, the use of what are still called by us "Arabic" numerals, 
though they are of Indian origin ; at all events, the Arabs themselves admit 
havii)g obtained them from India. 



Language of Animals. 351 

quoth William Cowper. — The origin of the Beast-Fable is still a 
vexed question. Some will have it that it was at first adopted as a 
safe vehicle for conveying reproof or advice to despotic princes, who 
were not likely to submit to be lectured in plain language. Others, 
again, are of the opinion that it had its source in — or was suggested 
by — the belief in metempsychosis, or the migration of the soul after 
death into another body ; not always, or perhaps frequently, again 
into human form, but into that of some beast, bird, or fish. Thus a 
jackal, at present, may have been in a former state of existence, or 
"birth," a prince; and a prince, at present, may have been a poor 
labourer, or a cat, dog, horse, bull, peacock, tortoise, and so on. This 
theory seems to be supported to some extent by the fact that the 
animals who figure in the Indian Fables discourse like good Hindils, 
talk of saying their prayers, of obligatory bathing, and of being well 
versed in the Vedas and other sacred books. Tliat is to say, they do 
not talk as cats, mice, frogs, &c. might be supposed to thinh — allow- 
ing them to be capable of thinking and reasoning — but rather like 
sages. This will appear as no inconsistency to the ordinary Hindii 
mind, while the contrary would be so considered ; for the cat or the 
mouse is understood to be a human being ro-born in that animal 
form, and therefore capable of thinking as he did in a previous birth. 
And the Hindii entertaining such a belief must also believe that the 
different kinds of beasts and birds he sees every day possess a lan- 
guage whereby they communicate with each other, though, as the 
Esthonian song says, few men can understand them. We very fre- 
quently find in Indian story-books men mentioning, among the rare 
accomplishments which they possess, a knowledge of the languages 
of birds and beasts — see, for example, Tawney's translation of the 
Kathd Sarit Bagara^ vol. i. p. 499, 2lvA ][)assim. 

In romantic fictions, and in our ordinary household or fairy 
tales, the hero is commonly represented as being perfectly familiar 
with the speech of beasts and birds, and the acquirement stands him 
in good stead many a time and oft ; for by overhearing their con- 
versation he is enabled to escape dangers, or to achieve the object on 
which he is bent. Birds, especially, are very " knowing," doubtless 
in consequence of their long excursions to far distant lands, where 

LANE. A A 



852 Magiccd JElements in the Sqtcire's Tale. 

they see and hear all kinds of strange things, and on their return 
home they freely communicate their tidings to each other. A few 
examples will perhaps suffice for the general reader — those who are 
familiar with European and Asiatic folk-tales need none of the 
information that I can impart^ so they will pardon me if what I now 
have to say is to them a " twice-told tale," as it is intended for such 
as are not so well acquainted with the subject. 

The earliest example at present known of men being familiar 
with the speech of animals is found in the Egyptian romance of two 
brothers, Anapu and Satu, which is contained in one of the Hieratic 
papyri preserved in the British Museum, and was written more than 
three thousand years ago. When the younger brother is about to 
stall the oxen for the night, one of the animals warns him that 
Anapii is lurking behind the door ready to slay him when he should 
enter, and Satii is convinced of his brother's murderous purpose 
when he looks underneath the door and discovers his feet, and then 
flees for his life. 

In the Tamil romance, Madana-Kcimm^ajcwlcadai, translated by 
Mr. N'atesa Sastri under the title of the Dravidian Niglds' Entertain- 
ments, the prince and his companion — the latter being the real hero 
— returning to their own country, encamp for the night under a 
banyan-tree, and all are asleep save the ever-w^atchful friend of the 
prince, who hears a pair of owls conversing. Said the male bird : 
*' My dear, the prince who is encamped under our tree is to die 
shortly by the falling on him of a big branch which is about to 
break." " And if he should escape this calamity ^ " quoth the 
female. " Then," said the other, " he will die to-morrow, in a river, 
in the dry bed of which he is to pitch his tent : when midnight 
comes a heavy flood will rush down and carry him away." " But 
should he also escape this second calamity 1 " said the female. " Then 
he will surely die by the hands of his wife when he reaches his own 
city." '^And should he escape this third calamity alsoT' '^My 
dear love," answered the male bird, " he cannot escape it ; but if he 
should do so, by any chance, then he will reign as king of kings for 
hundreds of years," adding that any one who happened to know this 
secret and revealed it, his head should instantly burst into a thousand 



Language of Animals. 353 

pieces. The minister's son at once removed the sleeping prince to a 
spot far from the tree, and scarcely had he done so when a branch 
of the tree broke with a crash that aroused all the army as well as 
the prince, who exclaimed, " Surely I was sleeping in the very tent 
which that branch has crushed! How was I removed hither?'' 
The minister's son simply said, " I heard the noise of the breaking 
branch and removed you out of danger." The following night when 
they reach the bank of a river-bed, all prefer to encamp on the bank 
but the prince, who insists on having his tent pitched in the dry 
bed of the river. At midnight the minister's son heard, yet afar off, 
the rushing sound of the waters, and removed the prince on his 
couch to a place of safety ; he also saves his master from the third 
calamity, but I have no space here for the details. 

In the Danish tale which recounts the adventures of Svend 
(Thorpe's Yule-Tide Stories)^ just as the hero is falling asleep, twelve 
crows come and perch on the elder- trees over his head. They began 
to converse, and one told another what had happened to him that 
day. When they were about to fly away again, one crow said, " I 
am so hungry, where shall I get something to eat?" The crow's 
brother answered, *'W"e shall have food enough to-morrow, when 
father has killed Svend." Quoth another, "Dost thou think that 
such a miserable fellow will dare to fight with our father ? " " Yes, 
it is likely enough that he will ; but it will not profit him much, 
since our father cannot be overcome but with the Man of the Moon's 
sword, and that hangs in the mound, within seven locked doors, before 
each of which are two fierce dogs that never sleep." Svend thus 
learned that he should be simply sacrificing his strength in attempt- 
ing a contest with the dragon before he had made himself master of 
the Man of the Moon's sword, which he obtains by means of a finger- 
stall that rendered him invisible, and with that irresistible blade he 
slew the monstrous dragon. 

Prince Taj ul-Muliik, the hero of the charming romance of the 
Gul-i-Ba'kdwaU (or Rose of Pakawali), in wandering through a forest, 
climbs into a tree at night to secure himself from wild beasts. In the 
tree a maina (or hill-starling) had her nest, and he heard her little ones 
ask her what treasures there were in the jungle. She replied : " As 

A A 2 



354 Magical Elements in the Sqtdres Tale, 

you proceed towards the south there is on the edge of the lake a tree 
of enormous growth. Any one placmg a piece of the hark of tliat tree 
on his head will become invisible to all, while everything is visible 
to him ; but no person can go to that tree, because it is guarded by a 
huge dragon, which neither sword nor arrow can wound." The 
young ones inquired, " How then could any one reach there 1 " 
The maina answered, ^'If a courageous and prudent man should go 
to the border of the lake, he must leap into it, when the dragon will 
attack him, and he will be changed into a raven, and must then 
place himself on one of the western branches of that tree, where he 
will find green and red fruits. Should he eat one of the red fruits, 
he will regain his original form ; and by eating a green fruit he will 
become invisible ; and by placing one in his girdle he can travel 
through the air. The leaves will heal wounds, and its wood will 
open the strongest locks and break the strongest bodies." It is need- 
less to say that the hero took care to profit by this information.^ 

In Miss Erere's Old Deccan Days, the raja Yikram is suffering 
great pain in consequence of a cobra having crept into his throat 
while he slept. His bride overhears some cobras talking, one of 
which tells the others that if certain nuts are pounded and mixed 
with cocoa-nut oil, set on fire, and burned beneath the raja, the cobra 
would be instantly killed and drop to the ground. Moreover, if the 
same were done at the mouth of his hole, he, too, would be killed, 
and then they might find the treasure he guards. Of course, the 
raja is cured and the treasure gained. 

The story of ^'The Three Crows" (in Grimm's collection) must 
be very generally known : how a poor soldier, who had been robbed, 
and beaten, and blinded by his comrades, and then left at the 
gallows-foot, fast bound, overheard three crows, perched high on a 
neighbouring tree, talking together. One said that the king had 
vowed to marry his daughter to the man who should cure her of the 
malady from which she suffered, and that the remedy v/as burning a 
blue flower and giving her the ashes in water ; the second, that such 
a dew would fall that same night, which applied to a blind man's 
eyes would restore bis sight ; and the third told how the great dearth 
^ Cloiiston's Group of Eastern Romances a7id Stories^ p. 298. 



Language, of Animals. 855 

of water in tlie city could be remedied. The poor fellow bathes bis 
eyes in the dew and gets back bis sight; he cures the princess and 
finds the water. His comrades afterwards learn from him the cause 
of his good fortune, and go to hear what the crows next talk about, 
but they pick out the rascals' eyes, believing it was they who had 
learned their secrets. This story is wide-spread, and for Norse, Por- 
tuguese, iSTorth African, Siberian, Arabian, and Persian versions, I 
refer the reader to my Popular Tales and Fictions, vol. i. p. 250 if. 

The common saying *'as mute as a fish" is ignored in folk-tales, 
which, like fables, are superior to the so-called " facts " of natural 
history. Everybody remembers the witty retort of poor Goldy — one 
of the very few, by the way, that prejudiced Boswell has recorded of 
the genial Irishman — to the burly Doctor when he said it was no 
difficult matter to write fables — **Don.'t say so. Doctor," cried Goldy; 
" for were you to write a fable about little fishes, you'd make 'em 
talk like whales." — Grateful fishes often figure in folk-tales, as well 
as beasts and birds : in Indian stories this is natural enough, as I 
have already explained (p. 351), and when we meet with instances 
of sxjeaMng fish in European fictions we may be pretty sure they are 
of Asiatic extraction. There need, however, be no doubt of this in a 
Hungarian tale, in which the hero (Pengo) sees in a pool a small 
goldfish lamenting. "What ails youl" "Ah, the river beyond 
there lately overflowed its banks. I swam out beyond the banks 
and did not get back soon enough ; and when this little pool dries 
altogether I must die." " I^ot so," quoth the prince, "I will take 
you back to the river." " Good youth," said the fish, ^* take one of 
my scales, and whenever you are in need breathe on it and I shall be 
at your side."^ 

From the foregoing examples it will be seen that bird-language, 
or rather, the speech of ajiimals generally, is a very important factor 

^ This was evidently a good genie, or fairy, who had assumed the form of a 
fish in order to test the hero's humanity. In other tales such beings appear to 
the hero as poor decrepit old men and women, apparently in sore distress. The 
scale to be breathed upon here takes the place of the bird's feather, or the hair 
from a good genie's head, in other tales, which is to be burned when the hero is 
in any dijSiculty. 



356 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

in folk-tales. Sometimes, instead of birds or beasts, the " secrets " 
which are overheard by the hero, and of which he does not fail to 
make good use, are unwittingly revealed, in Norse tales, by trolls, 
and in Indian fictions, by hhiUs^ or demons that take up their abode 
in old wells or ruins ; but the result is invariably the same : the hero 
is warned and escapes from danger ; he learns the means by which 
he may conquer a foe, effect a miraculous cure, and become **rich 
beyond the dreams of avarice." — When the fair lady Canace goes to 
walk in the park on that — to her — eventful morning which succeeded 
the never-to-be forgotten birthday feast of her royal father Cambyus- 
kan, our poet — for a wonder — does not launch into a rhapsody on 
the love-songs of the birds, which Canace had, of course, often heard 
before, but now, with the magic Ring in her possession, was better 
able to appreciate — an unpardonable oversight of Chaucer, surely ! 
The true poet, it may well be supposed, requires not the aid of any 
magic ring to interpret for him the voices of birds in the grove at 
early morn : he knows perfectly that they, one and all, " sing love 
on every spray." But the lady Canace w^as simply a kind-hearted 
maiden, who had but a vague notion that the songs of the feathered 
minnesingers had but one theme; and the Ring must then have 
helped to shed a clearer light in her tender bosom, by which she 
would come to know, for the first time, what is '* that thing called 
Love." Let us see how a young Moorish prince sped after he had 
learned bird-language : 

The Young Prince and his Feathered Friends. 
Prince Ahmed, in conseqiience of the prediction of astrologers, 
that he was in danger from love until he came of mature years, was 
placed in seclusion and not allowed to see any woman. His tutor, 
for his amusement, instructed him in the language of birds, and the 
first feathered acquaintance he made was a hawk, who, he soon finds, 
is a mere pirate of the air, sw^aggering and boastful, whose talk was 
all about rapine and carnage and desperate exploits. He next 
became acquainted with an owl, a mighty wise-looking bird with a 
huge head and staring eyes, who sat blinking and goggling all day in 
a hole in the wall and roamed forth at night. He had great pre- 



Language of Animals. 357 

tensions to wisdom, talked something of astrology and the moon, and 
hinted at the dark sciences ; but the prince found his prosing more 
tedious than even that of his old tutor. Then he had some talk 
witli a bat, that hung all day by his heels in a dark corner of a vault, 
and sallied out in slip-shod style at night. But he had mere twilight 
ideas on all subjects, and seemed to take delight in nothing. And 
then the young prince formed acquaintance with a swallow, who was 
a smart talker, restless, bustling, ever on the wing, seldom remaining 
long enough for any continued conversation ; and he turned out to be 
a mere smatterer, who only skimmed over the surface of everything, 
knowing nothing thoroughly. 

Spring comes round once more, and with it the pairing of birds 
and nest-building. Erom every side the prince hears the same 
theme — love — love — love — chanted forth and responded to in every 
variety of note and tone. He listened in perplexity. " What can 
this love be," thought he, " of which the world seems to be so full, 
and of which I know nothing T' He applied for information to the 
hawk. The ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn, " You must 
apply to the vulgar peaceable birds of earth, who are made for the 
prey of us princes of the air. My trade is war, and fighting is my 
delight. I know nothing of this thing called love." When he 
applied to the owl that bird said, *^ My time is taken up in study 
and reflection. I am a philosopher, and know nothing of love." 
The bat said that he was a misanthrope. And the swallow had too 
much business to attend to for him to think of love. Then the 
prince inquires of his old tutor, "What is the thing called love*?" 
The horrified sage replied, **0 Prince, close thy mind against such 
dangerous knowledge ! Know that this love is the cause of half the 
ills of wretched mortality. It is this which produces bitterness and 
strife between brethren and friends ; which causes treacherous murder 
and devastating war. Care and sorrow, weary days and sleepless 
nights, are its attendants. It withers the bloom and blights the joy 
of youth, and brings on the ills and griefs of premature old age. 
Allah preserve thee, my Prince, in total ignorance of this thing called 
love ! " One day after this the prince heard a nightingale chanting 
his wonted theme. As he was listenin^^ and sighing? there w^as a 



858 Magical Elements in the Sqiiires Tale, 

sudden rushing noise in the air : a beautiful dove, pursued by a 
hawk, darted in at the open window, and fell panting on the floor, 
while the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared off to the mountains. 
The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed its feathers and 
nestled it in his bosom. Then he placed it in a golden cage. From 
the dove he learns all he wishes to know about the thing called love, 
and becomes desperately enamoured of a beautiful princess from the 
dove's glowing description of her charms. The dove conveys a letter 
from the prince to the lovely princess, in w^hich he confessed his 
affection for her, and returns with her favourable answer. Then the 
prince escapes from the tower by night, and with the help of a parrot 
wins his lady love.^ 

Birds are often represented in folk-tales as having the power of 
vaticination, and their predictions are always fulfilled, a notable 
example of which has been long current in Europe, through the 
mediaeval collection commonly called the History of the Seven Wise 
Masters of Rome. The following is a Eussian oral version, from 
M. Leger's French collection, which differs in some of the details 
from the ordinary form of the story : 

The Bird's Prediction: The Ravens' Disjpute. 

In a certain town there dwelt a merchant and his wife. They 
had a son, named Basil, w^ho was very clever for his years. One 
day, while they were seated at dinner, a nightingale in its cage sang 
with so mournful a voice that the merchant, quite overcome, said : 
" If I could find a man clever enough to tell me w^hat the nightingale 
sings, and what fate he predicts, I would in truth give him half of 
my wealth, and after my death I would leave him a cbnsiderable 
sum." The child, who was then only six years of age, looked 
seriously at his father and mother and said : " I know what the 
nightingale sings, but I am afraid to tell." **Tell it, wdthout 

^ living's Tales of the Alhamhra : " Prince Ahmed al-Kemal ; or, the Pilgrim 
of Love " ; winch I have abridged considerably, omitting the Prince's subsequent 
adventures and exploits for the sake of his fair enslaver, "er that he might hir 
Wynne," as being foreign to our purpose. 



Zangtcage of Animals. S59 

liesitation," cried they botli at once. The child, with tears in his 
eyes, then told them: "The nightingale announces that a time will 
come when you will serve me ; my father will pour out water for me, 
and my mother will hand me the towel." These words irritated the 
merchant and his wife very much, and they resolved to get rid of the 
child. They made a little boat, placed the child in it when he was 
asleep, and took the boat to the sea. At the very moment the sooth- 
saying nightingale flew from his cage, followed the boat, and perched 
upon the child's shoulder. 

The boat was borne along the sea, and soon came in the way of a 
ship under full sail. The pilot saw the child, pitied and rescued 
him, learned his story, and promised to love and guard him as his 
own son. Next day the child said to his adoptive father : " The 
nightingale predicts a tempest which will break our masts and tear 
our sails. We should return to port." The captain would not 
listen ; the storm arose, broke the masts and tore the sails. What 
could they do 1 What is done, is done ! They repaired the masts 
and proceeded on the voyage. Again Basil said : " My nightingale 
sings that we are about to meet twelve pirate-ships, which will take 
us all prisoners." This time the captain believed him, and touched 
at an island, from whence he clearly saw the twelve vessels pass by. 
He waited as long as was necessary and then resumed his voyage. 

At the end of some time they came in sight of ChoaHnsk. Now 
the king of that city was much annoyed by a pair of ravens and 
their little one, which, for several years, flew and croaked before the 
windows of the palace, without giving him rest day or night. What 
had not been tried % Everything had been done to drive them away, 
but all was in vain. At every cross-road the king had caused a 
notice to be put up, which ran as follows : **To him who succeeds in 
driving away the ravens from the royal windows the king will give 
in reward the half of his kingdom and his youngest daughter. 
Whoever undertakes the affair and fails shall lose his head." Many 
had attempted it, and all had given up their heads to the axe. 
Basil had heard of this notice, and asked permission of the captain 
to go to the king, to drive away the ravens. The captain remon- 
strated with him in vain ; he would not desist. " Go, then," said 



3G0 Magical Elements in the Sqiiires Tale, 

the captain to him; ''il misfortune befall thee, thou hast only 
tliyself to blame." 

J3asil arrived at the palace, spoke to the king, and desired the 
\yindow near which the ravens flew to be opened. He listened to 
the cry of the bird, and then said : '* Sire, you know that there are 
here three ravens, the father, the wife, and the little one. ]^ow the 
father and the mother dispute as to which of them the son belongs, 
to the father or to the mother, and they beg you to decide. Sire, 
condescend to say to which of them the little one belongs." " To 
the father," replied the king. Scarcely had the words been uttered 
when the father and the little one flew off to the right and the 
female to the left. The king took the child with him, and loaded 
him with favours and honours. He grew up and became a fine 
young man ; married the king's daughter, and obtained the half of 
his kingdom. One day he took a notion to travel in various coun- 
tries, to see the inhabitants. He rested for a night in a certain 
town. On the morrow, when he rose, he called for water to wash. 
The master brought water and the mistress a towel. He talked wdth 
them, and recognized them : they were his father and mother. He 
wept with joy, and threw himself at their feet. Then he led them 
away with him to Choalinsk, where they all lived happily 
together. -•• 

In our English versions of the Seven Wise Masters the cause of 
the ravens' dispute is that during a time of scarcity the male bird 
had driven his mate away, and she had been fed and supported by 
the younger male raven (here there is no " little one ") ; but now the 
older male bird had returned to claim his mate, who would have 
none of him, but elected the other, who had befriended her in 
adversity. The king rules that the older male bird should depart 
and trouble the happy pair no more. 

Although this tale is found in all the European texts of the Seven 
Wise Masters, it does not occur in any of the Eastern versions of its 
prototype, the Book of Sindibad ; but that it is, partly at least, of 
Asiatic extraction seems evident from the fact that the birds' dispute 

^ llecueil de Goiites popidaires Slaves, traduits sur les textcs originaux, par 
Louis Lcger ; Paris, 1882 ; No. xxxi. 



Language of Animals, 861 

is found in a Bengali folk-tale, the first part of which I have abridged 
as follows : 

The Fool and the Disputing Birds. 

The prime minister of a raja took into his service a poor fool whom 
he found sitting by the side of a village road. Some time after this, 
a pair of birds had built their nest in the minister's garden, and 
one day the hen saw another hen walking about with her mate. 
She said angrily, " Leave her alone." The cock said, " Both of you 
can be my wives and live with me.'' The hen did not a23prove of 
this ; and a great dispute arose, and at last all three went before the 
r4j4 to have the matter settled, and when the court was closed they 
flew away. Thus they continued to come and go for two or three 
days, and then the ik]k asked the minister what was the reason of 
their coming. He replied, that he had not the least idea. The 
r4j4 said, *' If you can tell me to-morrow, good ; if not, I will cut off 
your head." The minister went into his garden, and sat thinking, 
with his head between his bands. The fool, seeing his master's 
dejected appearance, asked why he was so distressed ; but he 
answered nothing, till the fool continued to ask him in such a 
determined way that he could not help telling him the royal com- 
mand. *'Is this the reason you are so distressed T' said the fool. 
'^I understand what the birds are saying." And then he told his 
master the whole story of their quarrel, adding, " If the raja decides 
that both the hens shall continue to live with the cock, then show 
two fingers, and they will fly away ; but if it be decided that he is 
only to live with his wife, then show one finger, and one bird will 
immediately fly away, and a little time after the j)air of birds Avill 
fly together." The minister was delighted to hear all this, and next 
day went early to the durbar, and found that the birds were already 
come, and were sitting there. The r4j4 said, *^ To-day the case of 
the birds will be tried. What is their complaint?" Then the 
minister told him what he had heard from the mouth of the fool, 
and he was much astonished, and decided that the cock should have 
but one wife. So the minister held up one finger, and immediately 
one of the birds flew away, and a short time after the two others 



862 Magical Elements in the Sqidres Tale. 

went off together. The case being thus decided, the court was 
closed, and the r4j4 thought the minister's conduct praiseworthy.^ 

Whether or not it is to a man's advantage to have the precise 
time of his death predicted to a certainty is a question on both sides 
of which a good deal might be said, and, after all, we should perhaps 
be " no forrarder " ; so I'll not waste time in discussing it, but leave 
the reader to judge for himself, from the following somewhat singular 
story : 

The Crow's Prediction. 

'Ummayah ibn Abu es-Salat was the poet of poets amongst the 
Arabs, but, though often in the company of the Prophet, he did not 
embrace the blessed religion of Isl4m. His death was very remark- 
able. One day he took a cup in his hand, and as he was about to 
drink its contents, he heard the voice of a crow proceeding from a 
corner of the room in which he was with some friends. He replied 
to the crow, " Yafek et-turab ! " (*' To the earth with you ! ") 
Again the crow spoke, and again he answered as before. Those 
present now asked him, " learned soothsayer, what have you 
understood from the voice of the crowl" "It said," replied 
'Ummayah, "'Know that in the same hour in which you drink of 
the cup in your hand you will die ' ; to which I answered, * To the 
earth with you ! ' The second time it said, ' If you wish a proof of 
what I say, I will fly from here and perch upon the mound opposite, 
feed there on something, and die, in, consequence of a bone sticking 
in my throat. You will then drink of the cup in your hand, and 
die immediately.' " As he said this, the crow flew and alighted on 
the mound, where, after scratching two or three times, it fell down 
and expired. 'Ummayah now exclaimed, " Behold, the crow's 
words have been verified ! I will therefore drink of the cup in my 
hand, and you will see what ensues." The moment he drank of the 
cup he fell down and delivered up his soul.^ 

^ Indian Antiquary, 1874, vol. iii., p. 320 : ** Bengali Folk-Lore," by G. H. 
Damant. 

^ From a Turkish collection entitled, 'Ajaib el-ma'dsir tva ghardHh el-na- 
ijcddAr (Wonders of Eemarkable Events and Rarities of Anecdotes), by Ahmed 



Language of Animals. 868 

" Knowledge is power" • and we have seen a goodly number of 
instances showing that a knowledge of the speech of animals is a 
very great power to the heroes of folk-tales. In the following version 
of a well-known story (from Comparetti's Novelline poiJolare italiane, 
1^0. 56) — which is not very remotely related to the Bird's Prediction 
— ante, p. 358 — the hero is largely indebted to luck (or predestina- 
tion) for his subsequent good fortune : 

The Three Animal Languages. 

A father once had a son who spent ten years in school. At the 
end of that time the teacher wrote the father to take away his son, 
because he could not teach him anything more. The father took 
the boy home and gave a grand banquet in his honour, to which he 
invited the most noble gentlemen of the country. After many 
speeches by those gentlemen, one of the guests said to the host's 
son, "Just tell us some fine thing you have learned." *^I have 
learned the language of dogs, of frogs, and of birds." There was 
universal laughter on hearing this, and all went away ridiculing the 
pride of the father and the foolishness of the son. The father was 
so ashamed at his son's answer and so angry at him that he gave 
him up to two servants, with orders to take him into a wood and kill 
him and bring back his heart. The two servants did not dare to 
obey this command, and instead of the lad they killed a dog, aiid 
carried its heart to their master. The youth fled from the country 
and came to a castle a long way off, where lived the treasurer of 
the prince, who had immense treasures. There he asked for and 
obtained a lodging, but scarcely had he entered the house when a 
multitude of dogs collected about the castle. The treasurer asked 
the young man why so many dogs had come, and as the youth 
understood their language he answered that it meant that a hundred 
assassins would attack the castle that very evening, and that the 
treasurer should take his precautions. The castellan made two 
hundred soldiers place themselves in ambush about the castle, and 

ibn Hemdem, Khetkhoda, in the time of Murad, the fourth Ottoman sultan 
(A.D. 1623—1640) ; translated by J. P. Brown, under the title of T\whish 
Evening Enter taiiiments, New York, 1850 ; ch, xxiii. 



364 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale, 

at night they arrested the assassins. The treasurer was so grateful 
to the youth that he wished to give him his daughter, but he replied 
that he could not remain now, but he would return within a year 
and three days. 

After he left that castle he arrived at a city where the king's 
daughter was very ill, because the frogs which were in a fountain 
near the palace gave her no rest with their croaking. The lad per- 
ceived that the frogs croaked because the princess had thrown a 
cross into the fountain, and as soon as it w^as removed the girl 
recovered. The king, too, wished the lad to marry her, but he again 
said that he would return within a year and three days. 

On leaving the king he set out for Eome, and on the way he met 
three young men, who became his companions. One day it was very 
warm, and all four lay down to sleep under an oak. Presently a 
great flock of birds flew into the oak and awakened the pilgrims 
by their loud singing. One of them asked, ''Why are these birds 
singing so joyfully*^'* The youth answered, ''They are rejoicing 
w^ith the new Pope, who is to be one of us." And suddenly a dove 
alighted on his head, and in truth shortly after he was made Pope.^ 

Then he sent for his father, the treasurer, and the king. All pre- 
sented themselves trembling, for they feared they had committed 
some very heinous sin. But the Pope made them all relate their 
histories, and then turned to his father and said, " I am the son 
whom you sent to be killed because I said I understood the language 
of birds, of dogs, and of frogs. You have treated me thus, and on 
the other hand a treasurer and a king have been very grateful for 
this knowledge of mine." The father repented his fault, and his 
son pardoned him and kept him with him while he lived. ^ 

^ There is some obscurity here : as the hero was a mere youth, how could he 
be ^^ shortly after made Pope " ? The incident of the dove alighting on his head 
recalls — and is probably connected with — the custom mentioned in many Indian 
stories of people sending the late king's elephant and a bird out of the city, and 
the person the bird alighted on, and the elephant at the same time took up with 
his trunk and placed on his back, was chosen as king : the bird does not occur 
often in such tales. 

2 Crane's Italian Poimlar Tales, pp. 161-3. — In the German version (Grimm, 
Ko. 33, '* Die drei Sprachen ") the youth is sent to school three successive terms, 
durinoj each of which he learns an animaMans;ua^e. The old tower of the castle 



Language of Animals. 365 

Every schoolboy knows — or ought to know — tlie story in the 
introductory part of the Arahian Nights, entitled in our common 
English version, " The Labourer, the Ox, and the Ass " ; but E. W. 
Lane's more accurate translation of it may find a place here, so that 
our tales of animal-language may be the more representative ; 

The Merchant, the Bull, and the Ass, 
There was a merchant Avho possessed wealth and cattle, and had 
a wife and children; and God, whose name be exalted, had also 
endowed him with the knowledge of the languages of beasts and 
birds. The abode of this merchant was in the country, and he had 
in his house an ass and a bull. When the bull came to the place 
where the ass was tied he found it swept and sprinkled ; in his 
manger were sifted barley and sifted cut straw, and the ass was 
lying at his ease, his master being accustomed only to ride him 
occasionally, when business required, and soon to return. And it 
happened one day that the merchant overheard the bull saying to 
the ass, *'May thy food benefit thee ! I am oppressed with fatigue, 
while thou art enjoying repose; thou eatest sifted barley, and men 
serve thee, and it is only occasionally that thy master rides thee and 
returns soon, while I am continually employed in ploughing and 
turning the mill." The ass answered, " When thou goest out to the 
field, and they place the yoke upon thy neck, lie down, and do not 
rise again, even if they beat thee ; or if thou rise, lie down a second 
time; and when they take thee back and place the beans before 
thee, eat them not, as though thou wert sick. Abstain from eating 
and drinking for tv/o days or three, and so shalt thou find rest from 
trouble and labour." 

Accordingly, when the driver came to the bull with his fodder, 
he ate scarcely any of it, and on the morrow, when the driver came 
to take him to the plough, he found him apparently quite infirm. 
So the merchant said, " Take the ass and make him draw the plough 

is full of wild dogs, who bark and howl all niglit. He gets meat for them. 
Next morning he says the dogs are bewitched and obliged to watch a great 
treasure below the tower. — The story is also found in Hahn's Greek and 
Albanian collection, No. 33 ; BasquQ Legends, p. 137 ; and Melnsine, vol. i. 
p. 300. 



3()6 Magical Elements in the 8q%dres Tale, 

in his stead all day." The man did so ; and when the ass returned 
at the close of the day, the bull thanked him for the favour he had 
conferred upon him, by relieving him of his trouble on that day ; but 
the ass returned him no answer, for he repented most grievously. 
On the next day the ploughman came again and took the ass and 
ploughed with him till evening ; and the ass, with his neck flayed 
by the yoke, was reduced to a state of extreme weakness ; and the 
bull looked on him, and thanked him and praised him. The ass 
exclaimed, "I was living at ease, and nought but my meddling 
hath injured me." Then said he to the bull, "Know that I am one 
who would give thee good advice. I heard our master say, ' If the 
bull rise not from his place, take him to the butcher, that he may 
kill him and make a nata [eating-cloth] of his skin.' I am therefore 
in fear for thee, and so I have given thee advice, and peace be on 
thee." When the bull heard these words of the ass, he thanked 
him and said, "To-morrow I will go with alacrity." So he ate the 
whole of his fodder, and even licked the manger. 

On the following morning the merchant and his wife went to the 
bull's crib, and sat down there ; and the driver came and took out 
the bull ; and when the bull saw his master he shook his tail, and 
showed his alacrity by sounds and actions, bounding about in such 
a manner that the merchant laughed until he fell backwards. His 
wife in surprise asked him, " At what dost thou laugh % " He 
answered, " At a thing that I have heard and seen, bat I cannot 
reveal it, for if I did, I should die."^ She said, ^^Thou must 
inform me the cause of thy laughter, even if thou die." " I cannot 
reveal it," said he ; ^' the fear of death prevents me." " Thou didst 
laugh only at me," she said; and she ceased not to urge and 
importune him until he was quite overcome and distracted. So he 
called together his children, and sent for the kazi [judge] and 
witnesses, that he, might make his will and reveal the secret to her 
and die ; for he loved her excessively, since she was the daughter of 

1 This is the first intimation we have of the condition under which the 
merchant (he is more like a farmer) was taught the language of animals ; but in 
a variant which follows, it is stated that death was the penalty for revealing the 
conversation of birds or beasts. 



Language of Animals. 367 

his paternal uncle, and the mother of his children, and had lived 
with her to the age of a hundred and twenty years. Having 
assembled his family and neighbours, he related to them his story, 
and told them that as soon as he revealed his secret he mast die ; 
upon wdiich every one present said to his wife, "We conjure thee, 
by Allah, that thou give up this affair, and let not thy husband and 
the father of thy children die." But she said, " I will not desist 
until he tell me, though he die for it." So they ceased to solicit 
her, and the merchant left them and went to the stable to perform 
the ablution, and then to return and tell the secret to his wife. 

ISTow he had a cock, with fifty hens under him, and he had also 
a dog, and he heard the dog call to the cock and reproach him, 
saying, " Art thou happy when our master is about to die 1 " The 
cock said, "How soV and the dog related to him the story, upon 
which the cock exclaimed, " By Allah ! our master has little sense 1 
I have fifty wives, and I please this and provoke that one ; while he 
has but one wife, and cannot manage this affair with her ! Why 
does he not take some twigs of the mulberry-tree, and enter her 
chamber and beat her until she dies or repents *? She would never 
after that ask him a question respecting anything." And when the 
merchant heard the words of the cock, as he addressed the dog, he 
recovered his reason and made up his mind to beat her. He entered 
her chamber, after he had cut off some twigs of the mulberry-tree 
and hidden them there, and then said to her, " Come into the 
chamber, that I may tell thee the secret while no one hears me, and 
then die." And when she entered he locked the chamber door upon 
her, and beat her until she became almost senseless, and cried out, 
" I repent " ; and she kissed his hands and his feet, and repented 
and went out with him ; and all the company and her own family 
rejoiced ; and they lived together in the happiest manner until death.^ 

^ This story is also found in two Italian collections, viz. : Straparola's 
PiacevoU Notti, xii. 3, and Pitre's Fiabe, Novelle^ e Bacconti, No. 282 ; also in 
J. PauU's ScMmpf unci Frnst, No. 134 : ^'Ein bosz weib tugenhaft zemaclien." 
It is doubtless one of the many tales of Eastern origin which were brought to 
Italy by Venetian merchants who traded in the Levant in the 14th and 15th 
centuries. — The same story also occurs in Jones and Kropf s Folk- Tales of the 
Magyars, p. 801, where a donkey "had said something that made him smile." 
LANE. 13 B 



368 Magical Elements in the Sqibires Tale. 

I am of opinion that the foregoing diverting tale is not of 
Arabian but of Indian invention; and I have a strong impression 
that, some years since, I met with a very similar story in a Hindii 
collection, where some ants were conversing beneath the bed on 
which a prince and his bride lay; the prince understood their 
language and laughed, upon which his wife urged him to tell her 
what the ants said ; — but this is all that I can recollect of the story, 
nor can I call to mind the title of the book where it may be found. — 
There is an interesting Bulgarian variant, in M. Leger's French 
collection of Slav Tales, No. xi., which will probably be quite new 
to most English readers : 

The Shepherd who learned the Language of Animals. 

A certain man had a shepherd, who had long served him faith- 
fully. One day the shepherd heard a hissing sound, and discovered 
a serpent surrounded by flames in a dry wood which was on fire, and 
while he was watching to see how the poor creature would escape 
the serpent exclaimed, " Shepherd, I pray thee, do a good turn and 
take me out of these flames." The shepherd pulled him out with 
his stick, upon which the serpent coiled himself round the body of 
his deliverer. " Wretch ! " cries the shepherd, in mortal terror, " is it 
thus you thank me for saving you 1 They say truly, ' Do good, and 
you will find evil.' " But the serpent is far from ungrateful : he 
bids the shepherd carry him to his father, who is King of the 
Serpents, which he does accordingly, and arriving at the serpent- 
king's abode finds the door consists of a web of snakes ; the rescued 
serpent hisses, and the web of snakes is drawn aside, and as the 
shepherd enters the serpent advises him to accept of no reward but 
knowledge of the language of birds and beasts. At first the king of 
the serpents refuses, because the shepherd would at once die if he 
boasted of this knowledge; but, yielding at length to his impor- 
tunity, the serpent-king and the shepherd spit on each other's lips 
three times, and the shepherd takes his leave. 

On his way home he found that he could perfectly understand 
every word said by birds in the trees and insects in the grass. 
When he comes to his flock he hears two ravens conversing on a 



Language of AnimaU, 369 

tree : " If that slieplierd knew there is a enormous quantity of gold 
and silver in the cave near which his black lamb lies, he would soon 
take it away." He tells his master of this; the treasure is found, 
sure enough, and given by the master to his faithful shepherd, who 
forthwith builds a fine mansion and marries. He soon becomes very 
wealthy, with many cattle and sheep. One day he gives his servants 
a grand feast, and tells them to enjoy themselves, for he will himself 
look after the flocks and herds during the night. Some wolves come 
and say to the dogs that they wish a sheep to eat. The dogs reply, 
" Go on, and take one ; we'll feast with you." An aged dog, with 
only two teeth left, says, *' So long as IVe got a tooth in. my head 
you shall not steal ray master's property." The next day the man 
caused all the dogs, save the old one, to be killed, notwithstanding 
the intercession of his servants, nor would he give the reason for so 
doing. 

The man and ^his wife set out on a journey one day — he on a 
horse, she on a mare. Passing the mare, the horse says, ** Come on 
faster — why are you lagging behind 1" The mare answers, **It's 
very easy for yon to speak so ; — yon carry but one, while I carry 
three : my mistress, the child at her breast, and a foal within me." 
The man laughs, and his wife asks the reason; he tries to put her 
oif, but she insists on knowing ; and then he tells her that he must 
die if he should reveal the secret. She continues to press him more 
and more, till at length he consents, but it must be told at home. 
So they turn back, and, arrived at his house, he causes a grave to be 
dug, and lying down in it, tells his wife he is going to disclose the 
secret and die. Just then the old dog comes up, and the man bids 
his wife give the poor brute a bit of bread, which she does, but the 
dog won't eat it — he only moans and weeps. Presently the cock 
comes and begins to peck at the bread. Says the dog, ''Why do 
you eat % Here's our good master going to die ! " " Let him die," 
answers the cock, " since he is such a noodle. Look at me : I've a 
hundred wives, and when I find a grain of millet, 1 call them all, 
and then I swallow the grain. If one of them takes ofience, I thrash 
her till she lowers her tail. This man has only one, and can't take 
her down a single peg ! " On hearing this conversation, the master 

B B 2 



87^0 Magical Mements in the Squires Tale. 

leaped out of the grave, grasped a cudgel and so belaboured his wife 
that she never afterwards dared to ask him why he laughed. 

Did the Fable originally have a " moral '' tagged on to it 1 or was 
it supposed to be of itself sufficiently clear as to its import to render 
any explanation of it needless 1 I am disposed to think that the 
primitive fables had no " morals " appended, although the Buddhist 
and Hindu beast-fables are each invariably prefaced with a moral 
sentence, or couplet, which the apologue is supposed to enforce or 
illustrate, and the same maxim is repeated at the end — just as a 
Scotch parson often clinches his sermon with a repetition (accom- 
panied with pulpit-thumping) of his text — the usual formula being, 
''therefore I say/' and so on. To this innovation — as I cannot but 
consider it to be — are doubtless due the wire-drawn '^ morals " that 
were in mediaeval times tagged on to fables. JSTow it seems to me 
that the very aim and object of the Fable is to dispense with a 
didactic discourse : to bring a truth home to the minds of the 
hearers by means of a short, pithy narrative, full of interest, in 
which beasts or birds are the chief or only characters, and in whose 
sayings and doings lies the lesson desired to be inculcated. In its 
simplest, and therefore its primitive, form, the Fable stands in need 
of no explanation or commentary. Take, for examples, the delightful 
apologue of the mice who would hang a bell to the cat's neck ; the 
Dog and his Shadow ; the Wolf and the Lamb ; the Ass in the 
Lion's skin ; and many others, familiar from our nursery days : do 
they not carry each their own ^* moral'"? There is, however, some- 
what to be said in favour of the theory that beast-fables were 
employed, if not actually designed in the first instance, as safe 
vehicles of advice or reproof to despotic princes ; and it is said that 
a king was once turned from the evil of his ways by a cunningly 
devised fable related by his minister, who pretended to know bird- 
language : 

The Confab, of the Two Owls, 

Sultan Mahmiid [of Ghazniji had a vazir called Ayaz. One 

day a dervish came to Ayaz and said, " For the love of God, get 

^ Malmiud, son of Sabaktagan, ruled from a.d. 997 till 1030. It was at his 
request that Firdausi, the Homer of Persia, composed his grand epic, the Shd/i 



Language of Animals, 371 

somewhat for me from the king." Ayaz answered, *' To-morrow the 
king is to go to the chase. Do thou come before the king, and pray, 
and say, ^0 king, I know the language of birds.' If the king ask 
me, I shall answer and get somewhat for thee from the king." So 
on the morrow the dervish did so. Aydz was by the king's side, 
and he said, " king, give me this dervish, that I may learn the 
language of birds." The king answered, *^Take him; let him bide 
with thee." Ayaz said, " king, give this dervish some little 
thing, till thy slave learn the langunge of birds.'* So the king gave 
the dervish a daily allowance of a gold sequin. For a time the 
dervish abode with Ayaz, and after that Ayaz went before the king, 
and said, ** king, I have learned the language of birds from the 
dervish." And he caused them to give the dervish much wealth, and 
the dervish went away. 

One day Sultan Mahmiid went to the chase with Ay4z. While 
on the road the king saw that there were two trees growing one on 
either side of the way, and upon each an owl was perched, and 
these were screaming across to each other. The king said to Aydz, 
*^ Thou sayest thou dost know the language of birds. What are 
these birds saying *? Listen, and tell me." Ayaz listened for a little 
while, and then said, '' king, this bird has a son, and this other 
has a daughter ; and this one wants the other's daughter for his son ; 
and the other wants 500 ruined villages and towns as dower for 
his daughter. And this one answers, * What are 500 villages, since 
Sultan Mahmiid is king over this clime 1 If thou wish 1000, I shall 
give thee them.' " Sultan Mahmiid heard this answer from Aydz, 
and said, " Am I such a tyrant that in my time towns and villages 
are ruined ] " And he straightway ordered that they restored all the 
ruined towns and villages in the country. So by reason of that 
untruth he set about acting with justice ; and now whenever his 
name is called they say, *'The mercy of God upon him ! " ^ 



Ndma, or Book of Kings. He figures prominently in many Indo-Persian 
popular tales. 

1 Hutory of the Forty Vezlrs^ translated from the Turkish by E. J. W. Gibb, 
London, 1886, p. 144. — This story is of Arabian extraction, and occurs in the 
Thousand and one Nights, and another Arabic work. 



872 Magical Elements in the Squire's Tale. 

We have now arrived at the fourth-, and last, gift of the Indian 

king to his Tartar ^* brother" — the Sword, which, by the way, was 

without a sheath ; perchance, because such a keen blade would wear 

out any scabbard. Its marvellous qualities are thus set forth by the 

ambassador : 

''This naked swerd, tlmt hangeth by my side, 
Siich vertu hath, that what man that it smyte, 
Thurghout his armur it wol kerve and byte, 
"Were it as thikke as is a braunched ook ; 
And what man is i-wounded with the strook 
Schal never be hool, till that you lust of grace 
To strok him with the plat in thilke place 
Ther he is hurt ; this is as moche to seyn, 
Ye moote with the platte swerd agein 
Stroke him in the wound, and it wol close ;— 
This is the verray soth withouten glose, 
It failleth nought, whil it is in your hold." 

The people, who were eagerly interchanging ideas regarding the won- 
derful presents which their king had just received at the hands of 
the Indian knight, in discussing the qualities of the Sword— 

fel in speche of Telophos the kyng, 
And of Achilles for his queynte^ spere, 
For he couthe^ with it bothe hele and dere.^ 

" Telephus, the son of Hercules and Auge, was wounded by Achilles 

with his spear, and healed by the application of some rust from 

the same weapon. Petronius, in his epigram, De Telejjho, exactly 

describes the qualities of Cambyusk4n's magic sword — 

"Unde datum est vulnus, contigit inde salus." 

A somewhat similar sword was possessed by a giant in a N^orse 

tale — " whoever is touched with its point dies instantly ; but if he 

is touched with the hilt he immediately returns to life."^ And in 

another Norse tale a witch gives the hero a sword, one edge of which 

was black, the other white ; and if he smote a foe with the black 

edge he fell dead in a moment, but by striking him with the white 

edge the dead man as quickly rose up alive. ^ 

1 Queynte = cunningly-devised. ^ CouiJie = could. ^ Der6 ~ harm. 
4 Thorpe's Vit^c-n'f^g Stories (Bohn's ed., 1853), p. 162. 
^ Dasent's Tales from the Fj eld : "Master Tobacco." 



Magic Swords and' Spears, 373 

A still more wonderful sword occurs in a folk-tale from Western 
India, in which the hero discovers himself in a submarine palace; 
a lovely damsel is lying upon a golden bedstead, her head severed 
from her body and laid on a pillow by her side, the life-blood 
trickling from her throat, each drop as it falls taming into a mag- 
nificent ruby. He conceals himself. Presently a giant — the girl's 
father — comes home ; he puts the girl's head on her neck, then takes 
a sword that was lying beside her, and strokes up and down with 
the blade the place where the neck had been severed, whereupon the 
girl awakes. In the morning before the giant goes out, he takes the 
same sword and cuts off the girl's head again, placing it on the pillow 
beside her, along with the sword. While the giant is away, the hero 
with the sword brings back the damsel to life, and they escape to the 
upper world. ^ 

Eeginald Scot, quoting L. Varius, says of witches that they 
" can remedie anie stranger, and him that is absent, with that very 
sword wherewith they are wounded. Yea, and that which is beyond 
all admiration, if they stroke the sword upwards with their fingers 
the partie shall f eele no paine ; whereas if they drawe their fingers 
downewards thereupon, the partie wounded shall feele intolerable 
paine. "2 It was also a magical practice to anoint the weapon that 
had caused a serious wound, and thus, as it was fondly believed, 
effect a cure by " sympathy." Sir Walter Scott introduces this in 
his Lay of the Last Minstrel, iii. 23 : 

But she has ta*en the broken lance, 
And washed it from the clotted gore. 
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. 
William of Deloraine, in trance, 

Whene'er she turned it round and round. 
Twisted, as if she galled the wound. 
Then to her maidens she did say, 
That he should "be whole man and sound 
Within the course of a night and day. 

Scott, in a note to this passage, gives a long extract from a dis- 
course on cure by sympathy, pronounced by Sir Kenelm Digby at 

^ Indian Antiquary^ July 1887, p. 110. 

2 The Discotierie of Witchcraft^ by Reginald Scot, 1584, p. 283. 



874 Magical JElemeoits in the Squires Tale, 

Montpelier, before an assembly of nobles and learned men, wbich was 
translated into English by E. White, Gent., and published in 1658, 
and in which he relates how he cured one Mr. James Howel, who 
had been severely wounded in the hand by endeavouring to part 
two gentlemen, his friends, who were fighting with swords : HoweFs 
w^ound had been bound up with his garter on the spot. Some days 
after, Howel came to Digby and asked him to look at his wound, as 
he had heard of the remarkable remedies he possessed. 

^'I asked him," continues Digby, "for anything that had the 
blood upon it, so he presently sent for his garter, wherewith his hand 
was first bound ; and as I called for a bason of water, as if I would 
wash my hands, I took a handful of powder of vitriol, which I had 
in my study, and presently dissolved it. As soon as the bloody 
garter was brought me, I put it within the bason, observing in the 
interim what Mr. Howel did, who still stood talking with a gentle- 
man in a corner of my chamber, not regarding at all what I was 
doing; but he started suddenly, as if he had found some strange 
alteration in himself. I asked him what he ailed. ^ I know not 
what ails me ; but I find that I feel no more pain. Methinks that a 
pleasing kind of freshness, as it were a wet cold napkin, did spread 
over my hand, which hath taken away the inflammation that tor- 
mented me before.' I replied, SSince then that you feel already so 
good effect of my medicamentj I advise you to cast away all your 
plaisters, only keep the woinid clean, and in a moderate temper be- 
twixt heat and cold.'^ This was presently reported to the Duke of 
Buckingham, and a little after to the King, who were both very 
curious to know the circumstance of the business, which was, that 
after dinner I took the garter out of the water and put it to dry 
before a great fire. It was scarce dry but Mr. Howel's servant came 
running, that his master felt as much burning as ever he had done, 
if not more ; for the heat was such as if his hand were 'twixt coles 
of fire. I answered, although that had happened at present, yet he 
should find ease in a short time ; for I knew the reason of his now 

^ There can be little doubt that following out this advice, to keep the wound 
clean and in a moderate temperature, did vastly more towards the cure tlian all 
Digby's washings of the blood-stained garter and the rest of his charlatanry. 



Magic Sioords mid Sioears. 875 

accident, and would provide accordingly, for his master should be 
free from inflammation, it may be, before he could possibly return to 
him ; but in case he found no ease, I wished him to come presently 
back again ; if not, he might forbear coming. Thereupon he went, 
and at the instant I did put the garter again into the water, there- 
upon he found his master without any pain at all. To be brief, there 
was no sense of pain afterward, but within five or six days the 
wounds were cicatrized and entirely healed." ^ 

In the European romances of chivalry the champions are usually 

possessed of swords which can cleave an opponent from the helmet 

to the saddle, and sometimes even divide his horse at the same time 

in two equal parts. The noble King Arthur obtained his famous 

blade Excalibar in this wise, according to the veritable romance of 

Merlin : A strange stone was one day discovered in front of the 

church-door, and in it was firmly fixed a sword, on the blade of which 

were written these lines : 

Ich am y-hote [i. e. called] Excalibore ; 

Unto a king fair treasure, 

(On Inglis is this writing) 

Kerve steel, and yren, and al thing. 

It was then declared that whosoever should be able to draw this 
sword out of the stone should be acknowledged as King of Britain. 
Many were the strong and hardy knights who attempted in vain to 
withdraw the sword, until at length Arthur came forward — " being 
then in need of a trusty blade " — and drew it forth with perfect ease. 
This incident may have been taken from the Volsung Saga : *^ The 
Yolsungs traced themselves back, like all heroes, to Odin, the great 
lather of gods and men. From him sprang Sigi, from him Yolsung. 
In the centre of his hall grew an oak, the tall trunk of which passed 
through the roof, and its boughs spread far and wide in the upper 
air. Into that hall, on a high feast-day, when Signy, Yolsung's 
daughter, was to be given away to Siggier, king of Gothland, strode 
an old one-eyed guest. His feet were bare, his hose were of knitted 

^ It is said that James VI. learned from Sir Kenelm Digby the secret of this 
mode of cure, which he pretended had "been taught him by a Carmelite friar in 
Armenia. 



876 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

linen ; he wore a great striped cloak and a broad flapping hat. In 
his hand he bare a great sword, which, at one stroke, he buried up 
to the hilt in the oak-trunk. ' There,' said he, * let him of all this 
company bear this sword who is man enough to draw it out. I give 
it him, and none shall say he ever wore a better blade.' With these 
words he passed out of the hall and was seen no more. Many tried, 
for that sword was plainly a thing of price, but none could stir it till 
Sigmund, the best and bravest of the Yolsung's sons, tried his hand, 
and lo ! the weapon yielded itself at once. This was the famous 
blade Gram."i 

The Dwarfs in the Norse sagas are the most expert makers of 
irresistible swords : Sualforlani, king of Gadarike \i, e. Russia], cap- 
tures two dwarfs while out hunting. He orders them to forge him 
a sword with a hilt and belt of gold, that should never miss a blow 
and never rust, could cut through iron and stone as through a gar- 
ment, and always be victorious in war and single combat. On fulfill- 
ing these conditions he would grant them their lives. The dwarfs 
on the day appointed came and delivered the sword to the king, and 
when one of them stood at the door he said, " This sword shall be 
the bane of a man every time it is drawn, and with it shall be done 
three of the greatest atrocities." Thereupon Sualforlani struck at 
the dwarf so that the blade of the sword penetrated into the solid 
rock. Thus did Sualforlani become possessed of this famous sword, 

1 A somewhat similar Talmudic legend is told of Moses and the rod with 
which he divided the Red Sea, so that the Israelites passed over with dry foot, 
and smote the rock in the wilderness, causing a plenteous stream of pure water 
to flow forth. It seems that this extraordinary staff was created on the sixth 
day and given to Adam while yet in Paradise —but for what purpose it does not 
appear. Adam bequeathed it to Enoch, who gave it to Shem, the eldest son of 
Foah, from whom it descended to Isaac and Jacob. It was by the help of this 
staff that Jacob crossed the Jordan — he probably used it as a leaping-stick. — and 
he took it with him to Egypt. Before his death he presented it to Joseph, at 
whose death it was taken, with the rest of his property, into Pharaoh's treasury, 
where Jethro, then one of the royal magicians, at once recognized its magic 
qualities, and on quitting the Egyptian court to settle in Midian, he took it with 
him, and planted it in his garden, where no person was able to approach it, 
until the arrival of Moses — who had fled thither after slaying the insolent 
Egyptian — and he, having read the mystical words written on the staff, pulled 
it out of the ground with great ease ; a circumstance which clearly showed that 
the staff was reserved for him alone. 



Magic Swords and Spears. 377 

and he called it Tirfyng, and in single combat he slew with it the 
giant Thiasse, and took his daughter Fridur.^ 

This grim warrior's first stroke with his new sword Tirfyng, by 
%vhich he cleaved in two the unfortunate dwarf who helped to make 
it, recalls a similar incident in the Bedouin romance of Antar, when 
the equally famous blade Dhami first tasted blood. A thunderbolt 
(aerolite f) which had killed a camel was given by an Arab chief to a 
smith, to be forged into a trusty sword. When it was finished the 
artisan took it to the chief, with the unlucky remark — 

" Sharp is the sword, chief of the tribe of Ghalib ! 
But where is the smiter for the sword ? " 

*^As for the smiter," quoth the chief — "I am the smiter!" and, 
suiting the action to the word, he struck off the smith's head. This 
blade afterwards came into the possession of the renowned poet-hero 
Antar, in whose hand it caused men's heads to " flee aff like taps 
o' thistles." 

Among other celebrated swords was that given to the renowned 
Jack by his friend the three-headed giant, which was " of such exceed- 
ing sharpness that it will cut through whatever you strike." Similar 
was the sword which the hero Eisen- (i. e. Iron) Laczi, in a Polish tale, 
received from the king of the serpents, in reward for having saved 
his daughter from a burning hayrick, which cut down every one so 
long as it was not cleaned : he also received from the same ophidian 
potentate a shirt that was impenetrable while it remained unwashed. 

The Gipsies of Bukowina tell of a sword with which a hero, 
single-handed, destroyed an entire army. "When he went to battle 
he waved it to the right, and slew half of the army, and he moved it 
to the left hand, and slew the other half."^ — E"ot less powerful was 
the blade of which we read in the Arabian tale of *' Judar of Cairo 
and Mahmud of Tunis " : " Genie as well as men dreaded this 
sword, for when the dervish Sintbut, its maker, was angry with any 
one, he needed only to raise it against him, when a ray of light 
issued from it, which divided his adversary into two parts, and 
reduced them to ashes. If many assailed him at once, he had only 

^ Dasent's Po^piblar Tales from the Norse ^ Introd. p. Ixi. 

- Dr. Miklosich's MdrcJicn tmd Lieder der Zigeuner der Btihoivina, No. xiii. 



878 Magical Elements in the Squires Tale. 

to touch one of them with the sword, and all fell lifeless on the 
ground.'^ 1 

Sometimes a magic sword does deadly execution when merely 
ordered to do so, and even of its own accord. In a German tale, 
one of the treasures for the possession of which two buffle-headed 
giants are disputing is a sword to which you have only to say, 
*^ Heads off!" and off goes every head — except that of the owner, of 
course. So, too, in Spitta Bey's French rendering of a collection of 
modern Arabian tales, there is a sword that spares neither great nor 
small, if one but draw it and say, " Strike left and right ! " In one 
Hungarian tale there is a sword to w^hich you have only to say, " Sword, 
come out of your scabbard," when it would leap forth and slash about 
so that not even a fly could approach, and in another is a blade which 
"at your command will slay the population of seven countries." ^ In 
the Kalmuk tales of Siddhi Kur, a sword, and in the Jdtalcas, or Bud- 
dhist Birth- stories, a hatchet, have only to be ordered to go after such 
a man, cut off his head, and bring back the treasure on his person, 
and all is done forthwith. — In the ISTorse sagas, the sword which 
Freyr gave to Skirnir slew men of its own accord. Hrolf Krake's 
sword, Skofnung, would cry in its scabbard, and of itself leap out to 
battle : the sword of the Berserker, called Brynthware, did likewise. 
But what were these blades compared with the Sword of Venge- 
ance, which killed eight champions with a single stroke, and spared 
neither maid nor mother ! ^ In the old romance of Le chevalier a 

1 Kirby's Neio Arabian Nights^ p. 153, 

2 Folk- Tales of the Magyars, pp. QQ, 293. — I see no reason why the famous 
Magic Stick, which does such execution in so many folk-tales, should not be 
considered as a humble but sturdy cousin to these self-acting swords. When 
the youth has been deprived of his inestimable magic treasures by a rascally 
landlord, he obtains a stick, to which he has only to say, "Stick, stick! lay 
on ! " and when the stick has given the landlord a few of its gentle pats on the 
sconce the rogue cries out, *'Stop ! stop ! and I'll give you back your things." 
A sword could have done no more, except perhaps kill the landlord, and that 
would have been excessive punishment. 

2 See Prior's Danish Ballads, i. p. 268.— In a Polish tale, the hero sees on the 
wall of a room in the castle of Helen the Enchantress a sword hanging, and it 
continued to leap out of the sheath and back again every moment. He exchanges 
his own sword for it ; and when Helen comes in she seizes the sword on the wall, 
but no sooner did it touch her own (in the hero's hand) than it flew into bits. 



Magic Stuords and S2')ears. 870 

VEpee Gawain is received into an enchanted castle, where a sword 
cut off the head of any person who took liberties with the daughter 
of the chatelain. — It would also appear that, in olden times, when 
what we consider as marvels were almost every-day occurrences, 
heroes fondly conversed with their swords. Thus in the grand 
national epic of the Finns, the Kalevala, the hero KuUewo asks his 
sword whether it is disposed to eat the flesh and drink the blood ol 
the guilty, and the trusty blade answers, " Why should I not eat 
the flesh aud drink the blood of the guilty, when I have eaten the 
flesh and drank the blood of the innocent % " Whereupon Kullewo 
slays himself with the sword. 

Irresistible magic swords and spears often figure — and to some 
purpose, too — in early European romantic poetry. Thus in Spenser's 
Faerie Queene, B. II., c. viii., st. 20 : 

For that same knight's own sword this is, of yore 

Which Merlin made by his ahnightie art 

For that his ISToursHng, when he Knighthood swore, 

Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart. 

The metal first he mixt with medaewart, 

That no enchantment from his dint might save ; 

Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart. 

And seven times dipped in the bitter wave 

Of hellish Styx, which hidden virtue gave. 

In Bojardo's Orlando Innamorato, B. I., c. i., st. 43, we read of *^a 
lance of gold wrought out with skill and subtle toil. That lance is 
of such a nature that nothing can resist its thrust : force or slight 
avail not against it; but both must surely be overcome; enchant- 
ment unequalled in the world has girdled it around with such power, 
that neither the count of Brava, nor Hinaldo, nor [anything in] the 
world could stand firm against its thrust." — But in the same poem 
we meet with swords which are wrought with such fine temper as to 
break the spell of every sorcery — even enchantment avails not where 
they lay their strokes (B. II. xvii., 13). — In Ariosto's Orlando Furioso 
we read, according to W. Stewart Rose's translation : 



** You are my own bridegroom," said she, and so they were married. — Dublin 
University Magazine, 1867, vol. xx. p. 142. 



380 Magical Elements in the Sqiiire's Tale. 

Thus by Rogoro's suit tlie enchantress won, 

To his first shape transformed the youthful peer ; 

But good Melissa deemed that nought was done 

Save she restored his armour and his spear 

Of gold, which, whenso'er at tilt he run, 

At the first touch unseated cavalier, (viii. 17.) 

On Rabican, pricked forth before his band, 

Valiant Astolpho, from the other bound, 

Witli the enchanted lance of gold in hand, 

Which at the first encounter bore to ground 

What knights he smote with it. (xviii. 15.) 

The lance, by which who ever in the course 

Was touched, fell headlong hurtling from his horse, (xxiii. 15.) 

We find spears of like quality in Spenser's Faerie Queene : 

Ah, gallant knight, that ever armor bore, 
Let not thee grieve dismounted to have beene, 
And brought to grownd, that never wast before ; 
For not thy fault, but secret powre unseene : 
That speere enchauntod was which la3'd thee on the greone ! 

(B. III. c. i. St. 7.) 
Beside those armes there stood a mightie speare, 
Which Bladud made by magic art of yore, 
And usd the same in batteill aye to beare ; 
Sith which it had been here preservd in store, 
For his great vertues proved long afore : 
For never wight so fast in sell could sit, 
But him perforce unto the ground it bore. (B. III. c. iii, st. 60.) 

A stranger knight, sayd he, unknowne by name, 

But knowne by fame, and by an hebene [i. e. ebony] speare, 

With which he all that met him downe did beare. 

(B. IV. c. vi. St. 6.) 

Yelent the smith, according to the Ed da of Saemund, forged a 

** sword of sharpness" called Balmung, which had no superior. So 

sharp was this famous sword that when Velent cleft his rival Emilius 

with it, the hlade seemed to Emilius only like cold water running 

down his body. " Shake thyself," said Velent. He did so, and fell 

in two halves, one on each side of the chair. — The same gifted artisan 

wrought the sword presented to Childe Horn : 

Then she lete forth bring 
A swerd hongand by a ring, 

To Horn sche it bitaught, 
*' It is the make of Meming, 
Of all swerdes it is king, 

And Welend it wrought. 



Magic Stvords and Spears. 381 

Bitterfcr, the swerd hight, 
Better swerde bar never kniglit : 

Horn, to thee ich it thought 
Is not a knight in Inglond 
Schal sitten a dint of thine hand ; 

Forsake thou it nought." 

The ballad of Child Orm relates how tliat hero obtained from his 

mother's tomb the irresistible sword Birting, with which he slew the 

giant Berm — 

"Grip it with firm and dauntless hand. 
And none shall ever thee withstand." 

Thorpe, in his Northern Mythology^ iii. p. 276, tells us of a 
magic sword that had been given by a monk to Mynheer Hincke. 
" It had been wrought at the hour in which Mars ruled ; the cross 
was forged on a Tuesday, and on that day was finished. In the hilt 
was enclosed a piece of wood that had been struck by thunder {sic). 
All this was performed in the hour of Mars. A sword so prepared 
causes the blades of all opponents to fly to pieces." 

But the qualities of swords in Indian tales are as various as they 
are marvellous. A devotee gives a brave youth a magic blade : " If 
you say to it, * Sw^ord given by Siva, take me to such a place,' it will 
instantly fly with you there ; and you will be victorious in every 
battle, and as long as it remains in your possession you will never 
dle.'^ In another tale the goddess Durga gives the hero a sword, by 
means of whose magic power he could render himself invisible to his 
enemies (Tawney*s Katlid Sarit Sdgara, i. 69) ; in another, w^e read 
of a sword which, " as long as you hold in your hand, will enable 
you to travel through the air, and you will be invincible in battle " 
(i. 503) ; while in yet anotlier tale (i. 378) the hero obtains a magic 
ointment which he is to smear on his sword-blade, when it will cut 
through anything. 



882 Analogues of the Square's Tale. 



11. 

MOEE than fifty years ago, Thomas Wright, the indefatigable 
literary antiquary, in the notes to his edition of Chaucer's 
Poems, published for the Percy Society, remarked that it was then 
unknown from what source Chaucer derived the Squire's Tale : ^' it is 
not found, so far as I am aware," he adds, " ill any other form in the 
literature of the Middle Ages." The precise source of the Tale has 
not yet been ascertained ; but it is somewhat strange to find a man 
so generally well versed in European mediaBval literature apparently 
ignorant of the existence of the French metrical romance of Gleomacles^ 
written, in the thirteenth century, by Adenes, chief of the court poets, 
in which the counterpart of Chaucer's Horse of Brass — only made of 
ebony — figures prominently almost from the beginning to the end. 
And even if he did not know of this romance in its original form, he 
might surely be expected to have been acquainted with the later 
prose version of it, if only from Keightley's English rendering of 
Count Tressan's extrait of that work, which he gives in his Tales 
and Poimlar Fictions^ published in 1834. Wright has also over- 
looked the familiar tale of the Ebony Horse in the Arahia.n Niglits, 
to which the romance of Gleomades presents a striking resemblance, 
while the First Part of the Squire's Tale is very near akin to both. 
Chaucer could not have been acquainted with the Arabian tale, 
except through oral recitation, and he is not at all likely to have 
learned it in that way ; but he may have been quite familiar — and it 
is almost impossible for us to think he was not — with the French 
romance. Yet he could hardly have taken the First Part of the 
Sqidre's Tale from the French romance, unless we give him credit in 
this solitary instance for an independent invention of details which 
he has not been found to exercise, or exhibit, in the case of the other 
Tales, which are (sometimes avowedly) derived from well-known 
European sources, which he follows pretty faithfully. One thing is 



Adenes le Roi. 383 

certain, however, namely, that the mcident of the Indian ambassador 
presenting himself before King Cambyuskan, as he sat in his 
banqueting-hall on the occasion of a high festival, with a Horse of 
Brass and other gifts from *Hhe king of Araby and Ind" is not 
of Chaucer's invention, and it is possible that he had some other 
version of the romance of GleomadeSy now lost, before him as his 
model; for Chaucer, like Shakspeare, did not give himself the 
trouble of inventing tales for purposes of poetical embellishment, but 
laid hold of whatever came to hand that suited his fancy. — We have 
already sketched the outline of the Squire^ s Tale (pp. 270-274), so 
far as it goes ; and the question of its source will be more intelligibly 
discussed when we have also before us an abstract of the old French 
romance of Cleomades, its Arabian prototype, and cognate stories ; — 
though I may as well say at once, that the result wall not be con- 
clusive, except perhaps in proving whence Chaucer did not derive 
his Tale. 

The old French text of Cleomades was for the first time printed 
at Brussels in 1865, under the editorship of the learned Dr. van 
Hasselt, from the MS. (No. 175, '* Belles Lettres") in the Arsenal 
Library at Paris, collated with the MS. 7539, in the Imperial (now 
the National) Library, at Paris. ^ The MS. in the Arsenal Library 
is illustrated throughout, and was probably the Count of Artois* 
own copy. From Dr. van Hasselt's introduction are gleaned the 
following particulars regarding the author : 

Adenes, or Adans, surnamed Le Eoi (in all probability because 
he was "king," or laureate, of the court minstrels to Henri IIL, duke 
of Brabant, 1248-1261), was born in Brabant, of poor parentage, 
about 1240, and owed his education and advancement, as his own 
words in the Eomance declare (1. 18580 ff.), to Duke Henri. Jean, 
the second^ son, who, after an interval of civil strife, only terminated 
by the abdication of his elder brother Henri, succeeded to the 
dukedom in 1267, continued our minstrel in his service. For some 
reason, Adenes did not remain long with him, and in 1269 is found 

1 Li Moumans de Cleomadhs^ par Adenes li Eois : piiblie pour la premiere fois, 
d'apres un manuscrit de la biblioth^que de T Arsenal, a Paris, par Andre van 
Hasselt. Bruxelles, 1865. T. i. pp. 282 ; t. ii. pp. 305. 

LANE. C 



884 Analogties of the Squires Tale, 

attached to the court of Gui de Dampierre, count of Flanders. His 
position, as minstrel to the son of Marguerite of Flanders, one of the 
great vassals of France, made him a partaker in St. Louis' second 
and last crusade. In the spring of 1270 he is found in the train 
of Count Gui at Aigues-Mortes, with the royal army. After the 
disastrous death of St. Louis at Tunis, the expedition returned home 
by Sicily, where Adenes, among others, was entertained by Gui at a 
public dinner. By summer of 1271 they were home again. Adenes 
was a frequent visitor (in his master's service) to Paris, where he 
used to consult the learned monks of St. Denis for historical materials. 
He was thus presented to the king's (Philippe le Hardi) sister, 
Blanche of France, widow of the Spanish Infante, to Eobert II., 
count of Artois (to whom Gleomades is dedicated), and to his 
daughter Mahaut, or Maud. It was then, doubtless, that Gleomades 
was suggested to him by the princess Blanche of France, who was 
herself well acquainted with Spain. The date of his death is 
uncertain. Paulin Paris says that he was still in Gui's service in 
1296; and a document in the British Museum MSS. (E'o. 6965) 
mentions one Adas, a minstrel of the count of Flanders, who received 
a gift from Edward I. of England, then (1297) on a visit there to 
help his kinsman Gui against Philippe le Hardi. Gleomades appeared 
at the time of Philippe's attempted seizure of Cerdagne and Rous- 
sillon (exchanged for Languedoc by Louis IX. — Saint Louis — in 
1258), in which he lost his life, 1285. Can the minstrel have had a 
political motive'? He makes his hero's ancestor king of Sartaigne — 
i. e. Cerdagne, and not Sardaigne, as some (De Tressan, Reiffenberg) 
have thought. Van Hasselt throws out the hint for what it may 
be worth. 

According to Paulin Paris (in a letter to Keightley, portions of 
which are cited in his Tales and Popidar Fietions), shortly after 
Adenes composed the romance of Gleomades , " some copiers produced 
it under the different names of Le Glieval de Fust [the Wooden 
Horse] and Gelinde et Meliarehus. These copiers changed nothing 
but the beginning of Adenes, and they followed faithfully the main 
story and the details of the poem." The French prose version, 



CUomadh and Claremonde, 385 

VHistoire et Ghroniqiie du vaillant Glievallier Cleomades et de la 
helle Glaremonde^ appeared about the year 1480, and of this work 
Count Tressan published an extrait in the Bihliotheque des romans, 
April 1777, t. i., 169 ff.i Of this abstract Keightley gives an 
English translation in his Tales and Popidar Fictions, pp. 43-69, 
'^ divested in some measure of the frippery with which writers under 
the ancien regime in France were in the habit of disfiguring their 
compositions." In reproducing Keightley's version, as follows, I 
have added in foot-notes variations from the original metrical text as 
published by Dr. van Hasselt : 

Romance zi €\mmU% anir Ctomank. 

The young and beautiful Ectriva was queen of that part of Spain 
of which Seville was the capital. At a tournament held in her 
presence, Marchabias, son and heir of the King of Sardinia, dis- 
tinguished himself so much by his address and courage that he won 
her heart, and she bestowed on him her hand and made him a 
sharer of her royal dignity. Their marriage was happy, and in the 
space of four years they saw themselves the parents of a prince and 
three princesses. To their son they gave the name of Cleomades ; 
his sisters were called Helior, Soliadis, and Maxima. All were 
beautiful ; but, from her very infancy, the charms of Maxima were 
such as to entrance all beholders.^ 

As soon as Prince Cleomades had been sufficiently instructed at 
home, his parents sent him to travel for his improvement. He 
visited Greece, Germany, and France, and was proceeding to Italy 
when he was summoned home by the king and queen to give his 
presence at the nuptials of his sisters, whose hands were sought by 
three great princes, who were now arrived in Seville, whither their 
fame had preceded them.^ For they were not only powerful monarchs, 

^ See also (Euvres dio Comte de Tressan — Paris, 1822. Tome iii., pp. 255- 
298. 

2 In the original metrical Romance of Cleomades, Ynabele [? Annabelle], 
daughter of the King of Spain, is married to Marcadigas, the son of Caldus, 
king of Sardinia ; their son is called Cleomades, and the names of the three 
daughters are, Elyador, Feniadisse, and Marine. 

^ Here the Met. Rom. informs us that Marcadigas had been long at war, 
defending his land against five lyings. He challenges one of them to single 

C C 2 



386 Analog%tes of the Sqitires Tale. 

but were deeply versed in astrology and well skilled in the art of 
magic. One was Melicandus, king of Earbary; the second was 
Eardigans, king of Armenia; the third, whose name was Croppart, 
was king of Hungary. ^ This last was ugly and humpbacked ; his 
soul was as deformed as his body, and his tongue was pregnant with 
falsehood. 

These three kings had met together before they set out for 
Seville, and had agreed that each should give such a present to the 
king and queen as would entitle him to ask a gift in return. On 
their arrival they were received with all becoming honours.^ King 
Melicandus presented the royal pair with a man of gold, who held in 
his right hand a trumpet formed of the same metal, made with so 
much art, that if treason kirked within even a considerable distance 
from him, he put the trumpet to his mouth and blew a loud and 
piercing blast. — King Eardigans presented a hen and six chickens of 
gold, so skilfully formed that they seemed to be alive. He placed 
them on the ground, and they instantly began to run about, to peck, 
and to clap their wings. The hen flew up on the queen's knee, 
cackled, and laid a fine pearl in her lap.^ " She will do the same 
every third day," said Eardigans. All present were lost in admira- 

combat in two months' time. Clcomades, then in France, hears of this (he 
was only t\vent3'-five years old, and none under thirty were then called men), 
and returns at once to his father, whom he persuades to make him one of his 
new 300 knights at a festival. Five combats take place : Garsianis, king of 
Portugal ; Bondars le Gris, king of Gascony ; Galdas des Mons, sire of Tou- 
louse ; Agambart li Lons, king of Aragon ; and Sormans li Rous, king of 
Galicia— such were the names of the princes who accepted the bold challenge 
of Marcadigas, who had, however, a doughty ally in his son. Cleomades first 
overthrows Agambart, then Bondars ; while Marcadigas worsts Sormans and 
Garsianis. Galdas attacks Marcadigas, and kills his horse under him. Mar- 
cadigas is surrounded by foes. Cleomades spurs to the rescue, and driving at 
the bold King Galdas unhorses him, and the spectators call Cleomades "the 
god of arms" (1. 1154). The five kings return to their respective countries, 
after doing fealty to him and his father. So did the gallant Cleomades prove 
himself in arms (1. 1410). 

1 The names of these three kings, in the Met. Rom., are : Melocandis, of 
Barbary ; Baldigans, of Morocco ; and Crompart (sometimes written Crompars), 
of Bougie — or Bugia ^=-. Bujaiyah = the fourth of the provinces into which 
Muslims divide North Africa, viz. : Tunis, Tripoli, Constantina, and Bugia. 

2 In the Met. Rom. the three kings arrive at " Seville the Great " while 
Marcadigas is celebrating his birthday by a grand feast. 

3 A hen and three chickens, in Met. Rom., and no mention of pearls. 



CleomacUs and Claremonde. 887 

tion of these wonderful gifts. — King Croppart now came forward 
with a large wooden liorse,^ magnificently caparisoned, with pins of 
steel on his head and shoulders. '* Sire," said he, in a harsh and dis- 
cordant voice, *'witli the horse which I offer you one may mount in 
the air, cross the seas, and travel at the rate of fifty leagues an hour.'''^ 
The king and queen, who yielded to none in generosity, offered 
the strangers in return anything that was in their power to bestow. 
At once they craved as a boon the hands of the three fair princesses 
of Seville ; and Marchabias and Ectriva, seeing no sufficient reason 
to justify a refusal, accorded them their demand. The two elder 
princesses and the whole court were pleased with the kings of 
Barbary and Armenia, who were handsome and agreeable in their 
persons. But the princess Maxima, when she saw that she was the 
choice of King Croppart, burst into tears, and running to her brother . 
implored him to deliver her from such a hideous monster, or to put 
her to death with his own hand.^ Cleomades, who loved his sister 
tenderly and could not endure the idea of her being thus sacrificed, 
arose and declared to his father that he had bound himself by oath 
to defend the liberty of his youngest sister and that he could not 
consent to such a union. On the other hand, Croppart insisted on 
the promise of the king. The prince, darting at him a look of 
indignation, said : " The two other kings have merited by the value 
of their gifts the performance of the king's promise ; but what 
claims do this paltry wooden horse and the fable you have ventured 
to tell us give yoit ? " " My lord," said Croppart, gladly seizing the 
opportunity presented of getting rid of the prince, " be judge your- 
self of the merits of my horse. There is nothing I will not submit 
to if I deceive you." '* Yes," cried the prince, '^ I will make trial of 
him this very instant.'* So saying, he had the horse brought into 
the garden : the golden man gave a loud blast on his trumpet, but 

1 A horse of ebony, in Met. Kom. 

2 "Faster than arrow shot from bow." — Here follows a very long account 
of Virgil and his skill in the magic art. (1. 1650 ff.) 

3 The statement (p. 385) that Cleomades was summoned home to attend 
the nuptials of his sisters is thus rendered utterly absurd. Of course, this is 
due to Tressan, who could not, or would not, take the trouble to account for 
the presence of Cleomades, who had returned to assist his father against his 
enemies. 



388 Analogues of the Squires Tale. 

his warning was unheeded, all being so occupied about Prince 
Cleomades. The prince mounted the horse, but it remained im- 
movable : he began to menace Cropparfc. " Turn the steel pin in 
his forehead," cried the latter :i the golden man blew his trumpet 
more fiercely than before. The king heard it and called to his son to 
dismount. But it was now too late ; the prince had turned the pin 
and was aloft m the air, carried along with such velocity that he was 
speedily out of sight. 

The king and queen, full of grief and indignation, instantly had 
Croppart seized, menacing him with the most cruel death in case 
any evil should befall their son. But he replied with the greatest 
calmness : '* The fault is not mine; he should have waited till I had 
told him how to manage the horse." There appeared so much 
reason in what he said that they did not feel justified in having 
recourse to any measures of extreme rigour against him. He was 
therefore only corjfined in an apartment of the palace, but in other 
respects honourably treated. To the two other kings they made an 
apology for deferring the nuptials till they should have tidings of 
their son, at the same time assuring them that they had no idea 
whatever of not fulfilling their engagements. 

Meanwhile the gallant Cleomades w^as carried along with great 
rapidity. He lost neither his courage nor his self-possession. At 
first he expected that the horse would bring him back to where he 
had set out from; but when he saw the appearance of the country 
continually changing beneath him, and at last found that he was 
passing over the sea, he perceived to his gtief that he w^as quitting 
Spain, ll^ight was now spread over the earth, but still the speed at 
which he was proceeding remained unchanged. Eecollecting, at 
length, that there were pins on the horse's shoulders similar to that 
on his forehead, he took advantage of the first rays of light to make 
trial of them. He found that by turning one of them to the right 
or left, the horse went in that direction ; and that when the one on 
the other shoulder was turned, he slackened his pace and descended 
towards the earth. This discovery cheered the prince, and he even 
1 In the original Crompart himself turns the pin. 



GUomad^s and Glaremonde, 389 

began to entertain hopes of some fortunate adventure. The ra^ys of 
the sun, now reflected from glittering domes and spires, informed 
him that he was passing over some great and magnificent city ; so, 
skilfully managing the pins on the shoulders of his horse, he 
descended on the leads of a lofty tower, which stood in the midst of 
the gardens of a great palace.^ 

The prince, who was both fatigued and hungry after so long a 
journey through the air, dismounted, and leaving his horse on the 
roof of the tower, opened a trap-door and went down a flight of 
steps, which led him to a hall where stood a table still covered with 
the remains of a feast. He sat down and regaled himself, and, 
having drank some delicious w^ine, ventured to enter a chamber, the 
door of which was half open. The first object that met his view 
was a huge giant, lying stretched on the ground, and fast asleep. 
The prince softly drew from his hand a key which he saw in it, and 
coming to a richly-ornamented door, tried the key and opened it. 
He there beheld three beds, on each of which was reposing a young 
and beautiful maiden. The prince gazed for a moment on their 
charms, and then passed on to a door which was standing open and 
which gave him a view of a chamber still more magnificent than 
that which he was in. He entered and found a bed with rich 
hangings, and occupied by a maiden in the flower of youth, whose 
beauty far surpassed that of her companions. She was in a pro- 
found sleep. 2 Cleomades stood lost in rapture, and then for the first 
time felt the influence of love. As he gazed on her a bee flew into 
the apartment, and was about to settle on her bosom. Fearing to 
awake her, the prince blew at the bee with his breath, and the insect 
turned and stung him on the cheek. 

Just at that instant the maiden awoke, and seeing a man in her 
chamber gave a loud cry.^ " Eash man," said she, " how have you 

^ " Chastiau noble." 

2 No mention of a key in original Met. Bom. He passes the "grant 
vilain," crosses a corridor on the garden side, and opens an ivory door. To 
the right of the three beds is that of the princess. The names of the three 
female attendants are : Florete, Gaiete, and Lyades. 

3 The incident of the bee is the invention of the prose adapter of the 
romance — or of Count Tressan. The prince ventures to kiss her as she sleeps, 
and at the second kiss she awakes. 



390 Analogttes of the Squires Tale, 

presumed to enter this chamber 1 Are you King Liopatris,^ whose 
bride I am destined by my father to be % If you are not, nothing 
can save you from death/' "Yes, princess," instantly replied 
Cl^omades, " I am. By my address, and under cover of the night, 
I have penetrated into this chamber. I wished to see and do 
homage to the beauty destined for me, before 1 offered her my hand. 
Haply my respect had led me to retire without awaking you, had 
not this cruel bee menaced your bosom ; and I could only avert the 
stroke by receiving it myself." He took her lovely hand. The prin- 
cess was moved, and said : " I pardon you this indiscretion : retire 
into the garden, while I summon my attendants to aid me to dress." 

The prince obeyed without hesitation, and the three attendants, 
coming at the call of their mistress, prepared to attire her. She 
related to them with a blush her adventure, and did not conceal the 
impression which the appearance and manners of her future husband 
had made on her mind. When dressed, the fair princess, followed 
by her maids of honour, went down into the garden, where she 
found Cleomades expecting her. They entered an arbour, and in 
the course of the conversation which ensued he learned, by what 
fell from the attendants, that the name of the princess was Clare- 
monde, and that she was the daughter of Cornuant, king of Tuscany, ^ 
who had engaged her to Liopatris, king of Astrachan. 

Cleomades could not avoid secretly reproaching himself for the 
deception he had practised ; but he was too deeply in love to run 
the risk of losing his present bliss. Under his assumed character he 
proffered vows of everlasting attachment ; and taking advantage of 
the momentary absence of the princess's maidens, who had risen to 
gather flowers, he fell on his knees before her, and drew from the 
fair Claremonde a confession of corresponding affection, and a vow 
of eternal fidelity. Just then a loud noise was heard, the doors of 
the garden flew open, and King Cornuant entered, followed by his 
courtiers and a troop of armed men. 

1 Bleopatris, king of Arcage, son of Balcabe, a king of high renown, 
according to Met. Kom. 

2 In the metrical original, the princess is called Claremondine, and is the 
daughter of Carmant, king of Tuscany, and bis queen, Claremonde, who, 
indeed, is a quite subordinate character in the romance (11. 2650 — 2750). 



CUomacUs and Claremonde, 891 

The giant on awaking had gone to look after his fair charge. 
Not tinding her in her apartment, he became uneasy; but hearing 
the voices of her maids in the garden, he looked out of a window, 
and beholding a young knight at the feet of the princess in the 
arbour, he went with all speed and gave information to the king.i 

Cornuant in a rage demanded of his daughter, how it happened 
that he thus found a stranger at her feet. " Surely,'* replied the 
princess, " it must be with your own consent that he is come hither, 
for he is no other than the prince to whom you have engaged me." 
** Traitor!" cried the king in a fury, turning to Cleomad^s, * ^ what 
madness has induced you to intrude on the retirement of my 
daughter, and to call yourself Liopatris ? " 

"Ah, sire,'^ replied Cleomades respectfully, "have pity on a 
young and helpless knight, who is persecuted by the vengeance of 
the fairies. My father, one of the sovereigns of Europe, having 
given them some offence, they condemned me at the moment of my 
birth to be exposed for three days in each year to the greatest perils, 
and the moment in which these perils excite fear in my soul is to be 
the last of my life.^ From the moment I was knighted they have 
every year caused me to be carried off by a wooden horse that flies 
through the air and takes me all over the world, exposing me to the 
most appalling dangers ; but as yet my courage has never given way. 
Deign now, sire, to send up to the leads of this tower and the horse 
will be found, who of himself descended in that place. Overcome 
with hunger and fatigue, I went down in search of relief. Entering 
the chamber of your daughter, I heard her cry out : * Eash man, if 
you are any other than Prince Liopatris, I will call for aid, and 
your head will be cut off.' I must confess, sire, that the natural 
love of life made me have recourse to a stratagem, which I now 
strongly condemn, and I submit to whatever you may please to 
determine regarding me." 

Cornuant was amazed at this relation, to which he did not, how- 
ever, give full credit. He sent some persons to the roof of the tower, 

1 The king first privately sends for Lyad^s, one of the princess's maidens, 
for fear of compromising his daughter too hastily, in Met. Rom. 

2 Three days at the end of every three years ; and not a word about 
'' fear," and so on. 



3D2 Analogues of the Squires Tale, 

and, contrary to his expectations, saw tlieni return, bearing with 
some difficulty the wooden horse. He assembled his council, and 
their unanimous opinion was, that the stranger was deserving of death 
for having dared to deceive the princess Claremonde and assume the 
name of King Liopatris. King Cornuant then directed him to pre- 
pare for death, as he had not many moments to live. ^'I expected 
nothing else," repHed the prince with calmness; then turning to 
Claremonde, who seemed overwhehned with affliction, ^'Pardon, 
divine princess," said he, '• the artifice to which I had recourse. 
Impute it to love, and believe that the most devoted of lovers 
will expire before your eyes." The princess sighed and wept, and, 
luiable to speak, covered her head with her veil. The executioners 
approached. 

'*King Cornuant," cried the prince, '*I am a knight, and of 
noble blood ; let me die according to the manner of my own 
country, where a knight always receives his death mounted on a 
war-horse. Let me mount this instrument of the fairies' malignity ; 
it may suffice to save my honour and that of my country." ^ 

Cornuant, who felt a secret pity for the prince, readily granted 
his request. Cleomades mounted the wooden horse, turned the pin 
in its forehead, and was in an instant high in the air, and beyond all 
danger. He hovered about for some time, to the utter terror and 
amazement of the beholders, and then crying aloud, " Charming 
princess, I shall ever remain faithful," directed his course home- 
wards. As he now perfectly imderstood the management of the 
horse, he speedily reached Seville. He dismounted, and left the 
horse at a small country palace not far from the city, and hastened 
to console his anxious parents. ^ 

The nuptials of the two elder princesses with the kings Meli- 

candus and Bardigans were no longer delayed. But as the princess 

Maxima persisted in her aversion from King Croppart, and the 

golden man blew his trumpet every time he renewed his proposal, 

and Prince Cleomades moreover still declared himself the champion 

^ At first he is condemned to be hung, but ultimately gains permission to 
be cut to pieces ("decoupez d'espees "), seated on his horse, in IMet. Rom. 
2 In the original the magic horse takes him straight home. 



GUomadds and Glaremonde, 803 

of his sister, King MarchalDias gave him a positive refusal, accom- 
panied with orders to quit the court immediately. 

Croppart, having been obHged to leave his own country, and stay 
away for the space of a year,^ on account of some crimes which he 
had committed, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood of Seville. 
He disguised himself, and passed for an Indian physician, and, 
taking up his abode in one of the villages near the city, watched the 
movements of the royal family.^ He soon learned that Prince Cleo- 
mades had set out on another expedition. For this young man, 
unable to control the violence of his passion for the fair Glaremonde, 
had made a confidante of his mother, who, feeling that it would be 
useless to detain him, had consented to his returning, by means of 
the wooden horse, to the abode of that princess, only enjoining him 
prudence and caution. 

Cleomades arranged the time of his departure so as to arrive by 
night at the tower of his beloved Glaremonde. Instead of alighting 
on the leads, he directed his horse to a little garden, whose only 
entrance was from the apartments of the princess, and concealed 
him in an arbour. Full of hope, fear, and love, he then drew nigh 
to the door. It was open; he entered and advanced towards the 
chamber of Glaremonde. He found her lying in a gentle slumber ; 
a single lamp gave light in the apartment. Having gazed for some 
moments with rapture on her charms, he gently awoke her.^ ** Ah, 
rash youth," said she in a tender and affectionate tone, 'Mvhy will 
you again venture on certain deaths What do you purpose, since 
you are not King Liopatrisl" '^To adore you while I live,*' 
returned he, " and give you a station worthy of you. I am Gleo- 
mades, son of the King of Spain. My parents know of my love, 
and will press you to their bosoms, and make you mistress of one of 
the most splendid thrones in the world." '^Whatl'' cried the 
l)rincess, " are you that Gleomad^s whom fame proclaims to be the 

1 Seven 5^ears, in Met. Rom. 

2 ]s[o mention of disguise : he remains in Seville, and takes to visiting 
sick persons; "for he was skilled in the physician's craft — from thence to 
Salon ica [perhaps Salerno] was no such lord of leechcraft." 

3 He hides in a grove until nightfall, and then guides his magic horse into 
the palace-garden. Stealing in, he awakes her with two kisses. 



394 Analogues of the Sqtdre's Tale. 

most gallant and accomplished of knights 1 " The prince replied by 
presenting her with a splendid bracelet, containing his mother's 
portrait and his own. The princess avowed her love ; she told him 
that Liopatris was to arrive that very day, attended by all the 
knights of his court, and that nothing would induce her father to 
break his word. Cleomades then informed her of his plan, and she 
consented to mount the enchanted horse, and suffer him to conduct 
her to Spain. 

Day was now approaching. She summoned her three attendants 
to her presence, who were greatly surprised to see there again the 
young man who had already run such a risk. Their surprise was 
augmented when their mistress informed them that he was the 
celebrated Prince Cleomades. They made no needless remonstrance, 
but attired the princess in her most costly dress. One packed up 
her jewels in a small writing-case ; another made ready a basket of 
provisions for the journey. The third, more cautious, begged of 
Cleomades to defer his departure till the sun was risen, and to carry 
off the princess in the sight of King Cornuant, who every mornkig 
walked in the gardens adjoining those of the princess ; by which 
means, she said, she and her companions would escape all blame. 
Cleomades consented : the maids retired to their beds, and leading 
the princess into the garden he placed her behind him on the magic 
horse. 

The sun was now spreading his beams over the earth. Cleo- 
mades turned the pin in the forehead of his horse and the steed 
rose into the air. When he had ascended as high as the tops of the 
palace towers he beheld the king and his courtiers in the gardens 
beneath. " Sire," cried he, " know that I am Cleomades, Prince of 
Spain. Be not uneasy about the princess ; — my father and mother 
will receive her with all respect and affection. If King Liopatris, 
who has never beheld her, should feel offended, I. will give him 
satisfaction; or if he will, I will bestow on him the hand of my 
sister. "1 So saying, he made an inclination to the king ; the princess 
stretched forth her arms to her father, but the rapidity of the motion 
soon made her clasp her lover round the waist. 

1 No mention of Liopatris, or Bleopatris, in the Met. Rom. 



CUomades and Glaremonde, 395 

The aerial travellers did not arrive at Seville till early the next 
morning. The prince descended, as before, at tlie small summer 
palace, and leaving tlie princess there to take some repose and recover 
from the fatigues of the journey, he proceeded to the city to announce 
her arrival to his father and mother.^ Marchabias and Ectriva were 
charmed at his success. They ordered their most splendid equipages 
to be prepared, and in a few hours the whole court set forth to 
conduct the fair stranger to the city. 

Meantime Claremonde, having taken some repose and refresh- 
ment, went forth into the garden, where she amused herself with 
gathering flowers and weaving them into a chaplet, singing the while 
some extemporaneous verses. As ill-luck would have it, the malig- 
nant Croppart was at one end of the garden culling simples, in his 
assumed character of a physician. Hearing a melodio-us voice, he 
drew near unperceived, and .the first object that met his view was 
his own wooden horse. He then looked on the princess, and thought 
her still more beautiful than Maxima. Just then Claremonde gave 
a sigh, and began to weep, crying : *' Cleomad^s — beloved Cleomades, 
where are you ? Could you have deceived me when you said you 
were going in quest of those who would receive me with honour % 
Haste — haste ! — delay no longer I " 

Croppart instantly formed his plan. He approached the princess. 
^*Fair and noble lady," said he, **dry up your tears. The prince, on 
arriving at the palace, finding himself unwell in consequence of 
fatigue, said to me, for I am in his most secret confidence : * Mount 
the enchanted horse — fly to her whom I adore, and bring her hither 
with all speed.' He then taught me how to manage him. So, lady, 
mount, and I will with speed conduct you to the prince,'' 

The unsuspicious Claremonde mounted the horse without hesita- 
tion. ^ Croppart turned the pin, and they ascended into the air with 
such velocity that the princess was obliged to shut her eyes to avoid 

1 After the first stretch, for the greater ease of the princess, he goes, with 
many halts, by river or spring. Seville is reached at sunrise on a Tuesday. 
He leaves her, at her own request, in a garden under the city walls, as she was 
very weary. 

2 In the Met. Rom., the golden man blows his trumpet loudly and in- 
cessantly all the time Cleomades and his parents converse, to their great 
surprise (11. 5652—5750). 



396 Analogues of the Squire's Tale. 

becoming dizzy. But when she at length ventured to look below 
and saw no signs of a city, but, on the contrary, forests, lakes, and 
mountains, she became aware of the extent of her misfortune. 
Croppart, heedless of her reproaches, grasped her fair hands, and 
turning the head of his horse from the direction of Hungary, whither 
he was at first proceeding, urged his course over Italy towards Africa. 
Suddenly the princess gave a piercing cry, and Croppart found that 
she had swooned away. 

He immediately made the horse descend in a mead, watered by a 
fountain. He took her down, and sprinkled her with water till she 
revived. He then began to make proposals of love to her, declaring 
that he had been so captivated by her charms that he had considered 
every stratagem lawful, but that it was to raise her to the rank of 
queen of Hungary that he had carried her off. 

The princess, who did not want for quickness of intellect, 
instantly replied : " Ah, sir, what are you thinking of 1 Would 
you make a queen of a poor peasant girl, whom Prince Cleomades 
purchased of her parents for his pleasure 1 " ^ *' ^o matter," said 
Croppart; "your beauty makes you worthy of the first throne in 
the universe." His respect, however, now in a great measure 
declined, and he urged his suit to the princess in such a manner 
that she began to grow terrified. She had again recourse to art. 
*' Stop," said she, '^ or I shall expire before your eyes. I consent to 
marry you, if you will only wait till we come to some town where we 
may be legally united." 

Croppart, who, bad as he was, did not wish to be needlessly 
lowered in her opinion, assented to this reasonable request; and, 
being nearly overcome by the heat and fatigue, he went and plunged 
his arms into the fountain. He also drank of the water to quench 
his thirsty and the cold of it was so great that he fell nearly senseless 
on the ground.2 Claremonde also sat down at a little distance, and, 
exhausted by grief and fatigue, fell fast asleep. 

1 In the metrical text, she tells him that she is of Lombardy, born at 
Milan, of a silk-weaver, and had lost both parents this very year : she owes the 
gown she wears to a charitable dame who had maintained her. Cleomades 
was taking her to work for his sisters. 

^ Halting by a spring, Crorapart decides to leave the magic horse outside, 



OUomad^s and Glaremonde, 897 

In this state they were found by the falconers of the king of 
Salermo, who were in pursuit of one of their hawks which had flown 
away, and had seen him aHght at the fountain to drink. They were 
not a little amazed at finding in this lonesome place an ugly little 
hunchback, who was breathing as if struggling against death, and 
near him a lady of surpassing beauty lying fast asleep. They imme- 
diately despatched one of their number with the strange tidings to 
the king of Salermo, whose name was Mendulus.^ 

This prince, who was of a voluptuous character, instantly 
mounted his horse and rode to the mead, where he found Crop part 
and Claremonde in the same state in which the falconer had left 
them. The beauty of Claremonde astonished him, and for the first 
time in his life, perhaps, he experienced love mingled with sentiment 
and respect. On their awaking he interrogated them. Croppait 
asserted that he was a free man; that he had fallen asleep at the 
fountain ; and that the young woman was his wife. Claremonde, 
being asked if this was true, positively denied it, and implored the 
king to protect her against him. Mendulus had them both brought 
to the palace. The horse, of which he knew not the use, was not 
left behind. The fair Claremonde was assigned an apartment in the 
palace. Croppart was placed in confinement ; but the disorder which 
he had caught at the fountain was so severe that he expired during 
the night. 

!N"ext morning Mendulus, all impatience, waited on Claremonde 
with the offer of his hand. But the princess pretended to believe 
that he was only mocking her. She told him that she was nothing 
but a foundling, picked up by some persons, who gave her the name 
of Trouvee \i. e. Eoundlhig], and had afterwards married her to a 
gentleman ; but that the hunchback, who was a great clerk and 
physician, had carried her off, and brought her with him from 
country to country, where he made a great deal of money by his 
philtres and tricks of sleight-of-hand ; so that he had always kept her 

for fear of attracting attention. It is evening, and Crompart is suddenly 
seized with sickness, and is fain to sleep. No mention of a surfeit of cold 
water, but sunstroke ("maladie de chalour, 11 douloit li chies") seems to be 
meant. 

1 Meniadus, kino- of Salerno, in Met. Rom. 



898 Analogues of the Sqidre's Tale. 

well clothed and fed until the evening before, when he had beaten 
and abused her without reason. 

Mendiilus, who was a good sort of man, and not troubled with too 
much delicacy, was not at all repelled from the alliance which he 
proposed by this frank confession. Having, for form-sake, held a 
council, composed of the companions of his pleasure, and obtained 
their approval of his design, he returned and announced it to the 
princess. Claremonde now saw no other means of retarding the 
marriage, which she dreaded, than to feign that joy had turned her 
brain. 1 She committed acts of the greatest folly and extravagance, 
and at length became so violent that the king found it necessary to 
take measures for her cure, and he put her under the care of ten of 
the most sensible and strongest women he could find. 

The court of Spain was meantime in the utmost affliction. When 
the king and queen arrived with Cleomad^s at the summer palace 
they sought in vain for the princess Claremonde. Cleomades picked 
up one of her gloves, but no other trace of her or of the enchanted 
horse could be discovered. His parents brought him back to the 
palace in a condition which caused apprehensions to be entertained 
for his life. 

In the course of a few days came ambassadors from the court of 
Tuscany, and the royal family were filled with shame at being 
obliged to declare that they knew not what was become of the 
princess. The chief of the embassy, however, who was a prudent 
and sensible man, saw that reproaches would be cruel, and he set 
about giving consolation to the prince. At the same time he could 
not refrain from upbraiding him for thus giving himself up to 
despair, instead of setting out and searching the whole world for a 
princess so deserving of regret. 

Cleomades felt his strength and courage revive at this reproof; 
and as soon as he was able to bear the weight of his arms he 

1 When the king declares his intention of marrying her, she obtains a 
respite for three months ; and when but three days are left before the nuptials, 
Claremondine~who fears that if she should discover herself and be restored 
to her father, he will marry her off-hand to the detested Bleopatris — has no 
resource but to feign that she is demented. 



CliomaMs and Glaremonde. 899 

mounted a gallant steed and directed his course towards the kingdom 
of Tuscany, in the hope of there hearing some tidings of his adored 
princess. He reached the lofty mountains which surround it, passed 
through them, and it was far in the night when he came to a castle 
which stood alone, where he resolved to request hospitality.^ As the 
drawbridge was raised, he called aloud, and a man answered him 
from the battlements, and told him that it was the custom of this 
castle that any knight who was entertained in it should next morn- 
ing leave his arms and his horse, unless he were willing to singly 
engage two valiant knights in arms. " The custom is a discourteous 
one," replied Cleomad^s. *' It was established,'' said the other, " in 
consequence of a traitor who w^as entertained here having assassinated 
the lord of the castle during the night. When his two nephews 
found him next morning weltering in his blood, he made them 
swear, ere he expired, to maintain this custom." ^ 

Cleomad^s was not to be daunted by the proposed terms of hos- 
pitality. The drawbridge was lowered ; he entered, was w^ell received 

1 Met. Bom. (1. 7825 ff.) : Meanwhile Cl^omades learns that Crompart is 
also missing from Seville ; guesses the rest, and the mere hope of recovering 
his princess enables him to rise from his bed. Much to his parents' vexation, 
he determines to seek her over the world, and, with a retinue of 100 knights, 
visits Brittany, Normandy,. England, Wales, Scotland ; from Dover crosses to 
Wissant, and, going through Germany, Hungary, Poland, reaches Greece at a 
time when the Greeks are at war with Primonus [Priam?], the king of 
Chaldea. They seek his aid, and he helps them to defeat and bring the 
Eastern king to subjection, by a battle under Mount Arestain [Marathon, says 
Paulin Paris]. Cleomades does not remain in Greece, but, loaded with honours 
and praise, takes leave of his would-be subjects and presses on his way, with 
less than a third of the following he had when he left Spain (1. 9000). Along 
the sea-shore, mourning for Claremondine, goes Cleomades (9050), till, reach- 
ing a port opposite Sicily (Sezile), he crosses and searches through the island, 
but in vain. He puts to sea again, and reaches Venice, where he makes some 
stay and many inquiries. It is but three days' journey thence — by Pavia, 
Ferrara, and Bologna — to Tuscany ; but Cleomades does not dream of going 
there. Unperceived by any but his chamberlain, whom he charges with 
secrecy, he steals away from Mestre — the land terminus of Venice — at day- 
break, to go by wild and unfrequented ways (9220). His retinue haste back 
to Spain, where Marcadigas dies of grief not long after (9400). No one can 
hear of Cleomades, and his mother and sisters are distraught with sorrow. — 
Cleomades rides with great speed all day (he is not^ however, going to Tuscanj^j 
and by night reaches the castle of Mount Estrais (9490). 

2 Cleomades, in the Met. Rom., is informed of the origin of this strange 
custom by one of the ladies, while at supper : " an armed man once murdered 
the lord of the castle and more than two hundred of both sexes." 



400 Analogues of the Squires Tale, 

and entertained, and then retired to repose.^ In the morning the 
knight, who had done the honours of the house, required him to 
surrender his arms or to fight. The prince forthwith mounted his 
horse, grasped his lance, and rode forth to where two armed knights 
awaited his arrival. ^ Immediately the two charge him together; 
their lances are shivered against his shield, but he remains firm in 
his seat, while one of the knights is unhorsed, and his shoulder put 
out of joint by the stroke of the prince's lance.^ The other tlien 
draws his sword, and a long and dubious conflict ensues. At length 
CMomades proves victorious, and disarms his opponent, whom he 
now finds to be a most valiant knight, whom he had met with in 
his travels. They both go to the aid of the wounded knight, who, 
on being informed of the illustrious name of his adversary, assured 
him that it was against his will he had aided to maintain that 
iniquitous custom; adding that lie only regretted his wound be- 
cause it would prevent his undertaking the defence of a damsel 
wrongfully accused of treason. 

They convey the wounded knights to the castle, and then Cleo- 
mad^s learns that the damsel is one of the princess Claremonde's 
maids of honour. For on the arrival of Liopatris at the court of 
Tuscaiiy, three knights of his train had forthwith accused the three 
ladies of honour of being accomplices in carrying off their mistress. 
The two knights confess to Cleomades that they are enamoured of 
two of the accused damsels, and the wounded man again bemoans 
his inability to defend the life and innocence of his mistress. **Ah, 
sir," replies Cleomades, " cease to afflict yourself. ISTo one is more 
bound than I to defend the fair Lyriade.^ I will depart with your 
comrade, and trust speedily to restore her to you." 

Cleomades, having selected a suit of plain armour,^ that he might 
not be known, set out with his comrade^ for the court of Xing 

1 After supper Pin9onnes, the minstrel, sings to his kitaire {pitUdra = 
Pers. Sitdr = guitar), and he has no need to call for silence. 

2 The two knights are : Durbant Dabel, the lord of the castle, and Sartans 
de Satre. 

3 It was not an uncommon occurrence in the be-praised age of chivalry for 
two, and even three, knights to attack a single knight — ideas of " fair-play " 
being somewhat obscure. * Lyades, in Met. Eom. ^ Black armour. 

6 With Durbant, accompanied by Pinyonues, the minstrel. 



GUomades and Claremonde, 401 

Comuant. On their arrival he halted in the suburbs, while the 
knight of the castle went forward to announce that two knights were 
come to undertake the defence of the accused damsels against the 
three accusers.^ Next morning the combatants appear in the lists. 
The word of onset is given : the knights dart forth and encounter. 
The strongest of the champions of Liopatris singly engages Cleomad^s, 
whose lance penetrates his shield and corslet and enters his heart. 
He then flies to the aid of his companion, whom the other two had 
unhorsed. Ere long they cry for mercy and deliver up their swords. 
According to the law of combat, the accused damsels are now pro- 
nounced innocent and delivered to their defenders j^ and mounting 
their palfreys they set forth with them, and accompanied by their 
relatives, for the castle whence the victor-knights had come. 

"When Cleomades disarmed himself, the damsels, to their great 
surprise and joy, recognized in him the lover of the princess Clare- 
monde. Their gratitude to him knew no bounds ; but their inquiries 
after their mistress awoke his grief, and they mingled their tears 
with his. All now began to consult on the means of obtaining 
tidings of her ; but none of the proposed plans seemed to offer a like- 
lihood of success. At length an old knight said he knew at Salermo 
an astrologer, '* who saw the most secret things quite clearly." 
Cleomades instantly resolved to go and consult this sage \ and ac- 
cordingly, next morning, after taking leave of the lovers and making 
them promise to come to Spain to him if he should find his Clare- 
monde, he set out for Salermo.^ 

On his arrival in that city Cleomades put up at an inn in the 
suburbs. His first care was to inquire of the host after the sage of 

1 They lodge at an inn in the town, beneatli Castle Noble (10,840). Cleo- 
mades cannot bear to look from the inn-window upon Claremondine's home ; 
and, dissembling the reason, prays Dui-bant to find him another abode. Dur- 
bant sends him to the castle of Verde Coste (Green Bank), the abode of Lyades' 
father, where he would be welcome. 

2 Bleopatris, the disappointed suitor of Claremondine, admits the honour- 
ableness of Cleomades. 

2 No mention of the astrologer in Met. Rom. Cleomades, accompanied by 
Pinyonnes the minstrel, takes the road to Rome, searching many countries, far 
and wide. Pingonnes informs him that they are approaching the realm of 
Meniadus, king of Salerno, an honourable lord, who exacts no toll of merchants 
or any others who will tell him news of strange lands. 

D D 2 



402 Analogues of the Bqiiire's Tale. 

whom he was come in quest. " Alas, sir/' said the host, " it is now 
a year since we lost him ; and never did we regret any one more ; 
for were he now alive he might be of the most essential service to 
our prince, by restoring to reason the most beautiful creature that 
ever lived, of whom, though she is of low origin, he is so enamoured 
that he is resolved to marry her." 

Cleomades was filled with melancholy at hearing of the death of 
the sage ; and the host, to divert him, related the tale of the hunch- 
back,i and how the king had met with that lovely creature, and how 
her head had turned -with joy at the idea of being married to a king. 
He ended his narrative by what he deemed the least interesting part 
of it, namely, by telling of the wooden horse, which had been found 
near where the rascally hunchback w-as lying. When he mentioned 
the horse, Cleomades threw his arms about his neck : " Ah, my dear 
friend," said he, " both your fortune and mine are made ; for I possess 
infallible cures for madness. Lead me at once to your prince ; — but 
stay : as my arms might excite some suspicion, get me a false beard 
and the dress of a physician. Depend upon my success, and on a 
full half of the reward." 

The host quickly supplied him with all that he required, and 
then going to the court, announced the arrival at his house of a 
most renowned physician,^ who would undertake the cure of the mad 
lady. The king ordered him to be brought to court without a 
moment's delay. 

Cleomades, taking with him the glove of Claremonde, which he 
had filled with some common herbs and flowers, repaired to the 
palace.^ King Mendulus himself conducted him to the apartment of 
the fair patient, who, as soon as she saw him approaching, redoubled 
her demonstrations of frenzy. " Sire," said Cleomades, " be under 
no apprehension ; I will soon make her calm." He then drew nigh 
to her, and put her glove near her face, as if to make her smell it. 

1 i. e. Croppart, or Crompart. 

2 Not said to be a physician in Met. Eom. : 

k'en Gascoig^ne manoit 
Et k'eu Sezile aler vouloit 
Et estoit de Portugal nes — 
" a Portuguese residing in Gascony " is what is meant. 

^ He sleeps at the castle ; in the morning has an interview with the king. 



CUomacUs ami Claremonde, 403 

Surprised at seeing her own glove, she looked sharply at the pre- 
tended physician, and at once recognized Cleomades. Instantly she 
became quite calm : she took his hand, and he felt the pressure of 
love and recognition. "Doctor," said she, "your glove is full of 
virtue, for it has done me some good. But as for yourself, poor 
creature, I believe you are just as mad as I am. With all your airs 
of importance, I'll wager that my wooden horse knows more than 
you do. But, by the way, I am afraid they will let him die of 
hunger. I wish they would bring him here to dispute with you. 
O how he would argue if he could get some Seville oats to eat ! " 
and she raised her eyes to heaven. 

Her lovely countenance had now resumed all its beauty. Men- 
dulus, enraptured, but at the same time grieved to hear her, as he 
thought, talking more irrationally than ever, implored the physician 
to employ all his skill for her recovery. " I will," replied he : " but 
we must begin by giving way to her little caprices and fancies. Fair 
Trouvee," then continued he, " I have not the slightest objection to 
argue with your horse. I have often before now disputed with those 
animals. It is, to be sure, no easy matter to convince them ; but by 
proper management one may succeed in training them and making 

them useful. Let them lead in your horse then, and " *^ Ha 1 ha ! 

you poor fool 1 " cried Claremonde in a fit of laughter ; " my horse is 
of another sort from those you are used to hold arguments with. Lead 
him in ! He will not himself be led ; he likes to be carried by asses 
like yourself. So go and fetch him. and then, if you dare, dispute 
with him in my presence.' ' Cleomades pretended not to understand 
her. " Sire," said he to Mendulus, " she has got some fancy about a 
horse into her head. Let one be brought out of your stables." 
Mendulus, who thought himself now wondrous wise, replied : '* I see 
how it is. I know better than you what she wants " ; and he 
ordered the wooden horse to be brought into the garden. 

" Fair Trouvee," said he then with a smile, " you know the horse 
might dirty your chamber. Come down into the garden, and he 
shall be there for you." "Ah," cried she, "?/ow talk sense, not like 
this sprig of a physician. Come, give me your arm and let us go 
down." She then caught Cleomades by the ear, as if to pull him 



404 Analogues of the Squires Tale, 

after her ; and all the court followed, laughing at her acts of folly, 
"When she saw the horse, she ran up and embraced him. '*Ah," 
said she, " how lean you are — they have half-starved you 1 " and she 
at once began to gather grass and flowers to feed him. 

Cleomades, showing the king a little phial, said : " We must lose 
no time in making her swallow this." Claremonde instantly changed 
her tone, and affected to feel great confidence in the physician and 
his remedies. *^ thou great man," cried she, ** mount this horse 
with me, and take me away from this rabble, who are tormenting me. 
You will find my cure in the horse's ear." Cleomades shrugged his 
shoulders, as if he now doubted of her cure. But Mendulus pressed 
him to comply with her whim, and he himself placed her behind 
him on the horse. The prince, with the phial in his hand, afi'ected 
to search the ear of the horse, and, watching his opportunity, turned 
the pin. The horse rose, like an arrow from a bow, into the air, and 
all present uttered a cry of amazement. '* Mendulus," said the 
prince, as they went off, " I am Cleomades, prince of Spain, and 
this is the fair Claremonde, daughter of the king of Tuscany," and 
they were soon out of view.^ 

1 Before going up to the castle, Cleomades charges his companion, Pin- 
gonnes, the minstrel, to salute Durbant and Sartan, with the ladies of their 
house (Claremondine's three maidens), and bid them come at once to him in 
Spain ; he will himself send for King Carmant (Cornuant). If he do this, 
Pin^onnes and all he loves will be made rich for ever (13,335). Meniadus 
(Mendulus) demands an explanation from Pingonnes, who tells him the whole 
history. The king listens patientlj^, and admits that he has been befooled : 
*' Meniadus, the caitiff [good-for-nothing ?] king," he exclaims, " my name 
will be all my life long. It is my rightful name. I have justly deserved it ; 
for never lived so caitiff a king as I, so God help me ! " (13,770). Pinyonnes 
takes the opportunity of getting his conge, and the morrow morn sets out on 
Cleomades' palfrey, which the prince had given him. He is gladly welcomed 
at Verde Coste, and tells Lyades all that had happened ; then goes to King 
Carmant, and informs him to his great joy that his daughter is safe, and in no 
less worthy hands than Cleomades' (14,000). Pingonnes then returns to Mont 
Estrais, Durban t's castle, and tells him that the strange knight who had helped 
them and had given his name as Mescheans (== Ill-luck ?) was no other than 
the renowned prince Cleomades. 

Meanwhile Cleomades, unwilling to weary his beloved Claremondine, brings 
the magic horse down in a fair and pleasant place where a fountain murmurs 
under a tree in the meadow slope, up and down which many flowers were 
blooming. There they have a long talk, and assure each other of their 
unswerving fidelity. They eat and drink but little (for "pure love was their 
entremet "), and then Claremondine sleeps near the tree, covered by Cleomades' 
cloak. He watches her with rapture, drinking in her wondrous beauty (" rose 



Valentine and Orson, 405 

Next morning the happy pair arrived at Seville. The nuptials 
were immediately performed, and shortly afterwards King Cornuant 
came, with a part of his court, to visit his daughter. King Liopatris, 
who also came, in disguise, was so smitten with the charms of the 
Princess Maxima that he forthwith asked and ohtained her in mar- 
riage. Claiemonde's maids of honour, and their lovers also, made 
their appearance at the court of Seville, and all respired joy and 
happiness. 1 

Keightley has remarked that the name of Claremonde occurs in 
the romance of Valentine and Orson, it being that of the lady be- 
loved by the gallant hero, and also that a magic horse figures in the 
same work ; but he has strangely overlooked a number of incidents 
which have been evidently adapted from the story of Cleomades ' et 
Claremonde. The magic horse is thus described in the twenty-first 
chapter of a chap-book version of The Renown' d History of Valentine 
and Orson, the two Sons of the Emjyeror of Greece : 

^'JSTow you shall understand, that within this castle where Cleri- 
mond was, dwelt a dwarf, whom she had brought up from a child, 

and lily made a covenant to share her face between them "). Hardihood 
persiiades him to steal a kiss, but Reason bids him suffer a while. The result 
of the dispute is that he decides to hold by Reason. Then is Desire overcome by 
Temperance. And when she wakes, it is from a dream of his saving her from 
a lion and slaying it. This he interprets allegorically by his recent struggle. 
Delighted, she grants him a kiss for reward, which having softly taken, he sets 
her on the magic horse again. (Met. Rom.) 

1 With frequent stoppages to repose his beloved, they at last arrive safely 
at Seville on a Tuesday, and are received with the utmost joy (14,650). Letters 
are written on parchment and on wax [tablets covered with wax?], and sent 
throughout Spain (14,875). Everybody flocks to Seville. On the second day 
after his arrival Cleomades hears of his father's death, and the mourning 
causes him to postpone the nuptials for a little time. Meanwhile he sends a 
" vallet " on his horse to inquire after King Carmant with letters of love and 
greeting (14,970), praying him to send Durbant, Sartan, Lyades, Florete, and 
Gaiete, and not to forget Pinyonnes, his old friend. To the great feast which 
he holds at Arainne [= Arena == Old Seville : the ancient Italica, birthplace 
of Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius] are invited and welcomed Meniadus 
(Mendulus), his queen-mother, and his sister Argente ; also his own sister's 
spouses, Melocandis and Baldigans (15,478). The five kings overthrown by 
himself and his father are also bidden (16,101). The marriage is elaborately 
described (16,890 ff.). Meniadus — no mention of Bleopatris, or Liopatris — 
marries Marine (or Maxima) ; Carmant (who has lost his wife) espouses 
Ynabele (or Ectriva), now a widow ; Pin9onnes is knighted ; Durbant and 
Sartan are made dukes. (Met, Rom.) 



406 Analogues of the Squires Tale, 

named Pacolet, being of more wit than stature, and who had by- 
study got a great insight into necromancy : by which art he com- 
posed a Httle horse of wood,^ in the head of which he had artificially 
fixed a pin, that every time he mounted him he would turn the pin 
towards the place he would go, and suddenly he would be there 
without danger." 

In the thirty-fourth chapter the abduction of the fair Claremonde 
by the rascally King Croppart is thus adapted : 

^^Pacolet led Adrimain [a great magician] to his chamber; but 
this proved fatal, for about midnight he enchanted all within the 
castle, and among the rest Pacolet himself. Afterwards he got the 
wooden horse, and going to Clerimond, caused her to mount behind 
him ; so by turning a pin, they suddenly arrived at the tent of King 
Tompart. Being come, he called the King from his bed, telling him 
he had brought the fair lady Clerimond, whom he had stole from 
Aquitain, and along with her Pacolet's horse. * But,^ says the King, 
* art thou acquainted with this horse 1 ' ' Yes, long since, worthy King ; 
and by virtue of the pin, I know how to govern him.' Having made 
this known to Tompart, he thought to make experience himself; 
and taking Clerimond behind him, would carry her into his own 
country, and there marry her. 

" Adrimain was present all this while, and tells him that if he 
failed one jot of the true sense of the horse, that both he and the 
lady were in danger. ' Pear not that,' quoth Tompart, so turning the 
pin, he flew swiftly into the air, and was two hundred miles on his 
journey, before the lady awaked from her inchanted sleep ; who 
seeing herself deluded, fell into a swoon, which so affrighted King 
Tompart, that turning the pin, he set the lady down by the side of a 
fountain, in order to comfort her. Being come to herself a little, 
she uttered these words : ^ Unhappy am I above all creatures ! for I 
have lost my joys by this cursed treason. Alas ! Valentine, my 
love, cursed be he that separated us ! ' ^ Lady,' said Tompart, * leave 
off these foolish words : Is it not better for thee to be my wife, who 

1 Why it should be described as " a little horse " is not easy to understand, 
since we read subsequently that it carried three persons on one occasion. Per- 
haps it had the quality, like some enchanted steeds met with in fairy tales, of 
lengthening itself, to accommodate any number of riders ! 



Valentine and Orson. 407 

am lord of this jurisdiction, than to have a beggarly start-up, that 
hath neither land nor living T And at this he offered to kiss her, 
but she hit him on the mouth with her fist.^ Tompart being enraged 
at this usage, caught her up and set her on the horse again, thinking 
to go directly to his own palace, but turning the pin the contrary 
way, unexpectedly set her down at a large town in India. Clerimond 
by this time knew the horse to be Pacolet's, and began to renew her 
lamentations ; but Tompart reprimanded her, thinking he had been 
in his own country. But this fell out ill for him, for the news being 
brought to the King of India, he caused Tompart to be brought be- 
fore him, and ordered his head to be cut off forthwith, in revenge 
for the death of his brother, whom Tompart formerly had slain. 
After this the lady was led to the King's palace, and entertained 
with all manner of splendour and magnificence." 

In the thirty-sixth chapter we find the distressed lady has re- 
course to the same ruse as her namesake of the French romance, in 
order to avoid the unwelcome addresses of her royal captor : 

" You heard already of King Tompart's death, and Clerimond's 
time expired, 2 she was put to her shifts, to save her maidenhead 
from the Indian King ; to which purpose she feigned herself mad, 
and she acted the matter so well, that all her attendants took her 
really to be so, for none would come near her. The King lamented 
her exceedingly, and many ways were used to recover her, but all in 
vain." 

The lady's rescue has, of course, also been adapted from the 
French romance, though, unlike Cleomades, her lover does not boldly 
fly off with her in broad day and in presence of the King and his 
courtiers, but steals away with her in the dead hour of the night. 
This is how it is related in the fortieth chapter : 

*^ News being brought to Valentine of Clerimond, he resolved to 
take shipping with the Indian merchant, attended only by his squire, 
and after a long voyage arrived in that King's dominions, and there 
put himself in the habit of a physician, who undertook to cure any 

^ The sweet creature ! Claremondine adopted a policy more appropriate to 
her sex. 

2 That is, the period of grace before her marriage, for which she stipulated. 



408 Analogues of the Squire's Tale, 

distemper, especially madness. At last the tidings of liis skill came 
to the King's ear, and thinking he might recover Clerimond, sent for 
him ; and being at dinner, made him sit down, and thus said : ^ Sir, 
I have a beautiful lady in my palace, whom I would fain make my 
queen ; but her being possessed with Lunacy, obstructs it j now if 
you can restore her to her lost reason, I will give you whatever you 
ask.' Valentine replied : ' Great King, I doubt not effecting it, so 
your majesty grant my being alone with her all night, to observe 
the nature of the frenzy; to which the King agreed.' E'ow in the 
middle of the night, Valentine espying Pacolet's horse, in a secret 
place of the chamber, and well-knowing the use of him, he with 
Clerimond, and his squire, mounted immediately, and rode through 
the air to Angory, where they were joyfully received, and the mar- 
riage rites performed. Next morning the Indian King missing the 
lady, he caused search to be made through all his dominions, but to 
no purpose." 

It is worthy of note, that here the name of the king who carries 
off Claremonde is Tompart^ which is evidently a corruption of Crom- 
2Jart, the name in the original metrical romance, and this should 
seem to indicate that Valentine and Orson was composed before the 
appearance of the prose version of Cleomades. 

In the entertaining romance of Reynard the Fox, the magic horse 
of Cleomades and his adventures therewith are thus referred to by 
Eeynard, when he is enumerating the priceless treasures he has lost, 
among which was a magic glass — see ante, p. 306 : 

" The tree^ in whiche this glas stode was lyght and faste, and was 
named Cetyne,^ hit sholde endure ever, er it wold rote, or wormes 
shold hurte it, and therefore kynge Salamon seelyd^ his temple wyth 
tlie same wode, withynforth Men prysed it deerer than fyn gold ; hit 
is like to a tree of Hebenus,* of whyche wode Kynge Crompart made 

1 In old English, "tree" is used for wood. Thus in the fine ballad of 
*' John the Reeve " we read : 

" His stirrops were of tree." 
We still retain the term in *' vooi-tree,^^ " hooi-tree,'" and " cross-ifr^^." 

2 '' Cetyne" is doubtless the shittim wood of the Bible. ^ Ceiled. 

* Ebony. — The horse in the metrical romance of Cleomades is also of 
ebony. 



Eeynard the Fox, 409 

his horse of tree for the love of kynge Morcadigas^ daughter that 
was so fayr, whom he had weiide for to have wonue. That hois was 
so made within, that wosomever rode on it yf he wolde, he shold 
he within lesse than an hour, an hondred myle thens ; and that was 
wel prevyd, for Cleomedes, the kynges sone, wolde not byleve that 
that hors of tree had suche myght and vertue. He was yonge, lusty, 
and hardy, and desyred to doo grete dedes of prys, for to he renomed 
in this world, and leep on this hors of tree. Crompart torned a pynne 
that stode on his hresfc,'^ and anon the hors lyfte him up, and wente out 
of the halle by the wyndowe, and er one myght saye his Pater ISToster, 
he was goon more ten myle waye. Cleomedes was sore aferd, and 
supposed never to have torned agayn, as thistoryo therof telleth 
more playnly ; but how grete drede he had, and how ferre that he 
rood upon that horse made of tree of Hebenus, er he coude knowe 
the arte and crafte how he shold torne hym, and how joyeful he was 
whan he knewe it, and how men sorowed for hym, and how he 
knewe all this, and the joye therof when he came agayn, al this I 
passe over for losyng of time/^ 



Paulin Paris^ in his letter to Keightley, says : " I am strongly 
inclined to believe that the original fiction of CUomades is really 
Spanish or Moorish. All the personages are Saracens or Spaniards ; 
the scene is in Spain j the character of the fiction is akin to that of 
the fictions of the East." It is passing strange how M. Paris could 
make such an utterly unwarranted assertion as that all the characters 
are Saracens or Spaniards, and not less so that Keightley, with Count 
Tressan's extralt before him, could have cited it without question. 
If we examine the romance, we shall find that in the prose version, 
as represented by the extrait, the only characters that could be con- 
sidered as Saracens are two of the three kings who came to Seville 
with gifts to Marchabias and sought his daughters in marriage, 

1 The king is called Marchabias in the prose romance, and Morcadigas in 
the metrical version. 

2 Here, I think, we have clear evidence that the author of Reynard the 
Fox followed the original metrical romance, where the name is also Crompart, 
and where he — and not Cleomades, as in the prose version : ante, p. 388 — 
turned the pin. 



410 Analogues of the Squire's Tale. 

namely, Melicandis, king of Barbary, and Bardigans, king of Arme- 
nia j the third being Croppart, king of Hungary. But in the 
metrical romance of Adenes all three are decidedly Saracens of 
Northern Africa : Melocandis, of Barbary ; Baldigans, of Morocco ; 
and Crompart, of Bougie = Bujaiyah ; but the two first have no 
part in the events narrated in the romance after their first appearance 
at the Court of Seville, until the conclusion, when there is the usual 
marrying and giving in marriage all round. The scene is seldom in 
Spain : it is also in Tuscany {ante, p. 390) ; in Salermo (p» 397) ; 
in Greece (p. 399_, note 1) and many other places. The Spanisli 
characters may be almost said to be " conspicuous by their absence." 
Yet I quite agree with M. Paris in considering that the original of 
the French metrical romance was Morisco-Spanish, whether Adenes 
derived his materials from Blanche of Castile {ante, p. 384) or 
from some written source. 

It has been conjectured that Marco Polo's Travels suggested to 
Chaucer the idea of his Scjuire^s Tale, the scene of which is at the 
court of the khdn of Tartary = Jenghiz-khan = Canjus-kan = 
Camius-kan. From the general interest in the Far East which was 
created in Chaucer's time by Marco Polo's Travels, the poet may 
have been induced to lay the scene of his Tale in ^' the lond of Tar- 
tary," and on the occasion of the public celebration of the khdn's 
birthday. ^* You must know," says the Yenetian traveller, " the 
Tartars keep high festival yearly on their birthdays. And the Great 
Kaan was born on the 28th day of the September moon, so on that 
day is held the greatest feast in the year at the Kaan's court, always 
excepting that which he holds on J^ew Year's Day." — '^ The beginning 
of their ]^ew Year is the month of February, and on that occasion 
the Great Kaan and all his subjects make such a feast as I now shall 
describe. It is the custom on this occasion that the Kaan and liis 
subjects should be clothed entirely in white ; so that day every body 
is in white, men and women, great and small. And this is done in 
order that they may thrive all through the year, for they deem that 
white clothing is lucky. On that day also all the provinces, and 
governments, and kingdoms, and countries that own allegiance to the 
Kaan bring him great presents of gold, and silver, and pearls, and 



CUomad^s and the Sqiiire^s Tale, 411 

gems, and rich textures of divers kinds. And this they do that the 
Emperor throughout the year may have ahundance of treasure, and 
enjoyment without care. And the people also make presents to each 
other of white things, and embrace and kiss and make merry, and 
wnsh each other happiness and good luck for the ensuing year. On 
that day, I can assure you, among the customary presents there shall 
be offered to the Kaan from various quarters more than 100,000 
white horses, beautiful animals, and richly caparisoned."^ 

The name of Cambyuskan's second son, Camballo, is clearly 
derived from Cambaluc, the capital of Cathay, which Chaucer would 
also learn from Marco Polo. But there is nothing in the Venetian's 
narrative at all suggestive of the First Part of the Squire's Tale, if 
w^e except his description of the khdn's celebration of the New Year, 
when the tributary princes sent him so many splendid gifts ; but 
" the king of Araby and Ind " owed him no allegiance, and, more- 
over, it was not at the IsTew Year festival but the khan's birthday 
feast that the Indian ambassador came with his master's free-will 
o:fferings. On the other hand, there existed long before Chaucer's 
time the French romance, to the beginning of which the First Part 
of the Sqidre^s Tale is very nearly related, and I cannot think the 
resemblance merely fortuitous. It is true, there is an important dif- 
ference between the two, which, however, may be due either to 
Chaucer himself, or to his having had before him another version of 
the Cleomades story. In both cases the gifts are presented at the 
birthday festival {ante, p. 270 and p. 386, note 2) ; but in Chaucer's 
Tale there is only one person who brings the presents, from his master 
the Indian king ; in Cleomades three kings each bring a gift and in 
return demand the daughters of the king of Seville in marriage. 
The gifts are four in Chaucer, three in the Eomance ; in both, two of 
the objects possess similar qualities, the horse and the mirror in 
Chaucer, and the horse and the golden man in the Pomance. If the 
sword and the ring be of the poet's own invention — which I very 
much doubt — he is in this respect greatly superior to the author of 
Cleomades, or its prototype, as the golden hen is a mere useless toy, 

1 Yule's edition of Marco Polo's Travels, vol. !., book ii., ch. xiv., p. 343 ; 
ch. XV., p. 346, 



412 Analogues of the Sqttire's Tale. 

for it does not lay pearls in tlie metrical version. Another circum- 
stance which goes far to show that Chaucer had before him a model 
such as Cleomades is found in the concluding verses, in which he 
rapidly sketches some incidents of the rest of the Tale : 

And after wil I speke of Algarsif, 
How that he wan Theodora to wif ; 
For whom ful ofte in grete peril he was, 
Ne had he heen holpen by the hors of bras. 

What can this mean, if not that Algarsif, like Cleomades for 
Claremonde, was to be in danger of his life because of his love for 
Theodora, and finally carry her off on the magic steed *? As for 
Cambyuskdn's own exploits in winning cities — his " aventures and 
batailes," the like of which was never heard of — and never will be 
now, unless we accept John Lane's " filling in " of Chaucer's outlines ; 
and the strange passage in which it is hinted that Cambidlo is to fight 
with ^' the brethren tuo " on behalf of Canace ; — I say nothing ; and 
all the conjectural ^^explanations" I have seen leave the matter as 
much in doubt as ever. I simply hold fast by Algarsii's love- 
adventures. 

There is a curious wooden-horse story which Prof. Kittredge seems 
to be the first to point out (Englische Stiidien, b. xii., s. 6, foot-note) 
as being connected with the romance of Cleomades, and which is 
given by Delrio, in Dlsquisitiones Magicae, lib. ii., q. 6, Venice, ed. of 
1616, p. 102, from Roherti Triezii Insidensis U. de technis et impos- 
turis daemomim, c. 5 : " De certamine duorum magorum. Eapuerat 
unus puellam forma egregia et equo ligneo impositam per aera ads- 
portabat. Alter in castra quodam Burgundiae, celebri convivio 
praesens, quod castrum raptor praetervolabat, car minibus cogit rap- 
torem in castri aream descendere, et immobilem illic coram omnibus 
maestum cum praeda erubescente sistit," and so forth. ^ 

We shall see, as we proceed, that in most variants of the Cleo- 

^ " Of the strife between two magicians. One [magician] had seized a girl 
of remarkable beauty, and having put her on a wooden horse was carrying her 
off through the air. The other, who was in a castle in Burgundy, at a great 
supper, which castle the ravisher was flying over, compelled the ravisher by In's 
incantations to descend into the courtyard of the castle, and there to remain 
motionless and sorrowful in the presence of all, with Ins blushing prej^" 



Arabian Tale of the Ehony Horse, 413 

mades story a girl is carried off on a magic horse or some similar 
contrivance, but this version is unique in representing the magician 
who perpetrates the high crime and misdemeanour as being van- 
quished by another magician — whether with good or evil intentions 
does not appear in the passage cited by Prof. Kittredge, as above. 

%xMi\\ %'^\^ of tlj^ ikng ^imst. 

The tale of the Magic Horse in the Arabian Nights, familiar to 
every schoolboy, presents a striking resemblance, save in a few un- 
important details, to that of Prince Cleomades, and it is very evident 
that both have been derived from one source. In the Arabian story 
a king of Persia, who has one son and three daughters (like the king 
of Seville in the Hispano-French romance), and is keeping the festival 
of the New Year,i according to the ancient custom, when three sages 

1 The "Nu Ruz," or New Day, one of the two great festivals of the ancient 
Persians, the first day of the month of Farwardm (March), when the sun is in 
Aries; the other festival is that of the Autumnal Equinox. Jamshid (B.C. 800) 
established the feast of the Nii Miiz, and it is observed by Muslims. Parsis, and 
Armenians ; the Jews, to be different, hold it ten days later. Nizarai, in his 
Sikandar Ndma^ or Alexander- Book, tells us that the world-conqueror 

Sate and drank wine on the feast of Nu Ruz, 

Listened to the song of the singers ; 

Until the time of sleep, far from the king would not be 

The musician, nor the cup-bearer, nor music and wine. 

(Clarke's translation, Canto xxii. 12, 13.) 
On this day the king of Persia attended by his nobles and his army marches 
out of the capital, reviews the troops, and receives tributes and presents, and 
gives robes of honour to his courtiers. — " The exact period of commencing the 
New Year," says Mrs. Meer Hasan Ali, in her Observations on the Mussulmans 
of India^ "is calculated by practical astronomers, who are in the service of 
most great men in India, and according to the hour of the day or night when 
the sun enters Aries, so are they directed in the choice of a colour to be worn 
in their garments during this festival. If at midnight, the colour would be 
dark puce, almost black ; if at mid-da}^ the colour would be the brightest 
crimson. Thus to the intermediate hours is given a shade of colours ap- 
plicable to the time of the night or the day when the sun enters that particular 
sign : and, whatever be the colour to suit the hour of the Nu Ruz, all classes 
wear the day's livery, from the king to the meanest subject. ^ Mubarak Nu 
Iltiz!' (May the New Year be fortunate!) are the terms of salutation ex- 
changed by all classes of society, the king himself setting the example. The 
day is devoted to amusements, a public breakfast at the palace, sending pre- 
sents, exchanging visits, and so forth." 

Among the Hindus, the great vernal festival is held "in celebration of the 
return of spring, and said to be in honour of Krishna and of his son Kama- 
deva, the god of Love. It is iden tiffed with the Koli^ or BohUyatra, the 



414 Analogues of the Squires Tale. 

appear before liim, and make obeisance. One of the sages presents 
the king with a golden peacock, which was so formed that when an 
hour of the night was past it flapped its wings and uttered a loud 
cry ; another presents a Hgure of a man, made of gold and set with 
precious gems, having in its hand a golden trumpet, the peculiar 
property of this figure being that if it were placed at the gate of the 
city it would at once sound an alarm on the approach of an enemy ; 
while the third sage (who was of hideous aspect, as in Cleomades) 
presents a horse of ebony and ivory, which could carry its rider 
wherever he pleased. The king tests the qualities of the golden 
peacock and figure with the trumpet, and being fully satisfied with 
their performances,^ then orders the two first sages to name their 
reward. They reply: '^ Marry us to two of your daughters." To 
this the king at once consents, and his two elder daughters have no 
objections, seeing that their suitors are well-favoured men. The 
third sage now makes a similar request — that he should have the 
king's youngest daughter in marriage. But the king must first test 
also the properties of the ebony horse, and grants his son permission 
to make the trial. The prince accordingly mounts the magic horse, 
but it won't move. Then the ugly owner explains that he has simply 

Saturnalia, or rather Carnival, of the Hindus, when people of all conditions 
take liberties with each other, especially by scattering red powder and coloured 
water on the clothes of persons passing in the street, as described in the play 
of Ratndvali, where syringes and water-pipes are used by the crowd. Flowers, 
and especially the opening blossoms of the mango, would naturally be much 
used for decoration at this festival and as offerings to the god of Love. It 
was formerly held on the full moon of the month Chaitra, or about the begin- 
ning of April, but now on the full moon of Phalguna, or about the beginning 
of March. The other great Hindu festival, held in the autumn, about October, 
is called Durgd-jyujay being in honour of the goddess Durga."- — Sir Monier 
"Williams' notes to his translation of Kalidasa's drama of SaUuntald^ or the 
Lost Ring. 

The Persian festival of the Autumnal Equinox was established by Faridun, 
in the month of Mihrgan (September), and is of two kinds : (1) Mihrgdn-i- 
Massa, or the day Mihr, the sixteenth of the month Mihr, when the sun is in 
Libra ; and (2) 3Iihrgdn-i-' dmma, the twenty-first of the month Miiir, on 
which day Faridun captured Zuhak, according to Firdausi^s Skdh Ndma^ or 
Book of Kings. From one to the other, a period oi sixty-days, the Persians 
give themselves up to pleasure. 

^ It does not appear how the king managed to test the qualities of the 
golden peacock and the golden man : as the former gave notice when " an 
hour of the night was past," and the latter blew his trumpet on the approach 
of an enemy. 



Arabian Tale of the Ebony Horse. 415 

ply to turn the pin that is fixed in the horse's head in order to put 
it in motion, which the prince does, and the steed instantly springs 
up into the air and is soon out of sight, to the consternation of the 
king and all his courtiers. Of course the sage is clapped into, prison, 
pending the result of the prince's aerial excursion. 

Meanwhile the young prince, after having mounted to a very great 
height, discovers another pin in the head of the magic horse, on 
turning which it descends rapidly and alights on the roof of a palace, 
from which the prince finds his way into a chamber of the harem, 
where he sees a most bewitchingly beautiful damsel among her 
female attendants. The prince now acts very differently from Cleo- 
mad^s in the like circumstances : he knocks down the eunuch who 
guarded the door, and scatters the slave-girls right and left. He 
then learns from the damsel that she is the daughter of the king of 
Yemen, and that this is San' 4 the capital city ; — her father had but 
yesterday refused her to the ill-favoured king of India. When the 
eunuch has *^ gathered himself together," the brave prince tells him 
that he is the son-in-law of the king, who had given him permission 
to come and introduce himself to his bride. The eunuch forthwith 
proceeds to the king and informs him of all this strange business, 
and his majesty hastens full of wrath to confront the bold intruder 
into the presence of his daughter. But the prince (unlike Oleo- 
mades) bullies the king, who soon begins to change his tone, and 
treat him with courtesy — for the prince is evidently much the 
stronger man. Our hero then challenges the king to meet him in 
single combat for his kingdom, or, if he would prefer it, draw out 
his whole army in battle array, and he would encounter them. The 
king adopts the latter alternative, and the prince mounts his magic 
steed and canters up in front of the troops. After putting his horse 
through vEirious exercises he makes it ascend and speedily reaches 
home. On learning that the sage has been thrown into prison the 
prince causes him to be set at liberty, but he is not to get the 
youngest princess in marriage, at which the sage is secretly wroth, 
and resolves to be revenged. The conclusion differs little from that 
of CUomadeSy and altogether the Arabian tale is much inferior to the 
Romance. 

LANE. B E 



'^1^ Analogues of the Squire's Tale, 

toki^I] Mmwwt 

It is well known to such as are familiar with Eastern fictions, 
that Turkish fables and popular tales have all been translated or 
adapted from Arabian and Persian sources, but it is seldom that they 
are improvements on their originals or models. There occurs a very 
singular version of the story of the Magic Horse in a Turkish collec- 
tion, written about the close of the last century by a Cretan named 
*Ali 'Aziz, and entitled 'Phantasms from the Presence of God.'^ 
This is how the story begins : The king and his son, Prince Kezil, 
with all the members of the div^n, were assembled at a place half 
an hour's distance from the city, in order to celebrate New Year's 
Day, according to the ancient custom of Persia. There they pitched 
tlie tents, and spread out trays of food, and high and low feasted. 
For three days were exhibited, with playing and singing and ear- 
rejoicing melodies, all manner of strange and wonderful shows ; and 
with a thousand divers games and tricks they observed the olden 
rules and kept the ancient rites. While they were thus employed, 
an Indian brought up to the royal tent a horse fashioned of pure 
gold,2 and in likeness of a hobby-horse, that he might show the 
wonder of its contrivance. When they had looked at the perfection 
of its fashion, the Indian, its owner, said: ''This thing hath a yet 
more marvellous virtue, and it is this : when I mount upon it, it 
taketh me to what place soever I would, and it accomplisheth a three 
months' journey in a single day." And he mounted upon it and rose 
into the air, and alighted on a mound that was over against them. 
After tarrying there a brief space he came again and descended before 
the king's tent, and all were astonied at the strange thing. The 
king gave the Indian many gifts, and said to him : " Sell me this 
horse, and I will give thee therefor whatsoever thou mayest wish." 
The Indian made answer, saying : " My lord, this horse came into 

1 M'ulihayyaldt-i Ledun-i illalii-i Giridll ^AU ^Azfz JEfendi. — I am in- 
debted to Mr. E. J. W. Gibb for the use of his translation (in manuscript) of 
this curious, mystical work. 

2 Here we have, as in Chaucer, an Indian. In the Arabian tale three 
sages come with gifts, in Cleomadts^ we have three kings. This agreement of 
tlie Turkish tale with Chaucer wouki seem to point to the existence in the poet's 
time of a version of the story resembling the First Part of the Sqnireh Tale. 



Turldsli Variant. 417 

tlie hands of thy slave by a hap, so that he knoweth not the value 
thereof ; but it is very precious to him, and there is none could give 
him the price he would say that he should sell it." On being asked 
what he meant by this riddling, he thus answered them : 

" I, your slave, am a man poor of estate, from among dwellers in 
the city of Lar. I gained my livelihood by serving as sweeper and 
caller to prayer at the parish mosque. I had no one in the mansion 
of the world save one lonesome daughter, and I owned nought of 
that which is called wealth. One day, thirty days agone, when I 
had performed the afternoon prayer, and the congregation had 
departed, an elder entered the mosque, and coming up to me took 
me by the hand. The two of us sat down together in the middle of 
the mosque, and he opened his mouth and said : * Brother, I have a 
word to say to thee a little. I am not of the sons of Adam ; I am a 
spirit, but I have come purposing good to thee.' He saw that there 
was in me no sign of dread, so he took me by the hand and led me 
to one of the caves without the city, and showed me this cunningly 
devised horse. And first he pointed out to me the device of it, how 
to make it rise in the air, and how to make it descend, and how to 
stop it, and how to quicken it. Then he said : * The price of this 
horse is not in the world. It passed by a hap into my hands, but as 
we are spirits it is useless to us. My desire is to barter it with thee.' 
I smiled and said: *I am a poor man. I possess nothing that I 
should make exchange with thee.' He answered : * Thou hast a 
daughter. If thou wilt give her to me, I will give thee this ; but 
take heed that thou spoil it not, coveting the gold thereof ; for if 
thon knew its worth thou wouldst barter it for a hundred times its 
weight in gold.' After much thought the urgings of lust impelled 
me to acceptance, and when he saw that I was willing he took from 
his pocket a pen-case and a piece of paper, and said : * Now write 
this our exchange upon this paper.' And I wrote it and gave it into 
his hand. Then saying, ' JSTow take this horse and go to thy house,' 
he vanished from before me. When I went to my house I found 
not a trace of my daughter, and straightway I fell a-grieving that he 
had come and taken off my daughter, and I wept much. But 
knowing that remorse would profit not, I bethought me thus : ' If I 

E E 2 



418 Analogues of the Squire's Tale, 

show this horse in my own city, it is certain that I shall be straitened 
by their asking me where I found it' So having heard of your fair 
and kingly qualities, I said to myself : ^ If there be any who will 
know its worth, it is the king.' So I have brought it into your 
presence. If you desire it, I request full ten times its weight in 
gold." 

Prince ISTesil is at once enamoured of the wonderful horse, and 
persuades his father, Kharezm Shah, to purchase it. The Indian 
instructs the prince how to manage it, and he mounts on its back, 
and the liorse ascends into the air. ^'Pull not hard," the Indian 
exclaimed, but the prince did not hear him, and was quickly out of 
sight. The king was sorely grieved at his son's disappearance. — The 
remainder of the tale recounts the marvellous adventures of Prince 
ISTesil, who arrives at a large city, where there is a castle, which he 
boldly enters, and finds in one of the chambers a young lady who 
has been enchanted by a genie, who is in love with her. He 
discovers the mode of doing away the spell, and on the return of the 
genie compels him to obey all his behests, and in the end is duly 
married to the damsel. 

A more clumsy contrivance is the Plying Chair, in a story which 
Dr. Jonathan Scott translated from a fragment of an Arabic MS. text 
of the Thousand and One Nights, procured in Bengal, and included 
in his Tales J Anecdotes, and Letters from the Arahic and Persian : 

There was formerly in Baghdad a curly-pated, avaricious fellow, 
who worked hard under an herb-seller, and by dint of penuriousness 
became possessed of fifteen gold dmars,^ with the counting of which 
he amused himself nightly. One day, when he was walking in the 
serai of Khalayl, there passed by a broker carrying a chair of wood 
for sale. The labourer purchased the chair for fourteen dinars, but 
after taking it home became discontented with his bargain, and 
returned next day to the broker, saying: '^Either tell me the 

'^ About seven pounds and ten shillings. 



Arabian Tale of the Flying Chair, 419 

properties of this chair or give me back my money." The broker 
took him to the man for whom he had acted, who was a Jewish 
magician. Ou being interrogated, he said : *' The property of the 
chair is this : whoever sits in it must take a green switch in his 
hand, and strike the chair with it, commanding the chair to convey 
him wheresoever he chooses, and it will do so in an instant." 

When night fell, the labourer seated bimself in the chair, struck 
it with a green switch, and ordered it to carry him to the terrace 
of the sultan's palace. Instantly the chair ascended to the heavens, 
until he heard the angels singing the praises of Allah in the Milky 
Way. Then it gradually descended, and ahghted on the roof of the 
palace. On entering he found the sultan's daughter asleep on a 
sofa, and approaching, he kissed her hand. The princess at once 
awoke, and cried out in great fear : " Who art thou 1 " Said he : 
" I am 'Azra'il, the angel of death ,i and am come to take thy soul, 
and the souls of thy father and thy mother, and the vazirs and the 
generals of the army." The princess, greatly terrified, asked the 
reason of this, to which he replied that it was in consequence of his 
love for herself, but if her father would marry her to him all their 
lives should be spared. The princess promised to acquaint her 
father of this, and the impostor, re entering his chair, was immediately 
conveyed to his own house. 

In the morning the daughter of the sultan told him of the angel. 
'Azra'il having visited her during the preceding night, and that he 
required her for his wife as the condition of sparing their lives ; and 
the sultan at once caused the marriage contract to be drawn up in 
due form. When it was dark the impostor returned in his flying 
chair, and finding everything done as he desired, appointed the next 
Friday for the night of consummation, and he passed the interval at 
his own house. On the Friday night he came in his chair, gaily 
dressed for the occasion, and profoundly impressed the sultan and 
his courtiers w^ith his dignified appearance. The marriage was duly 
consummated, and he spent several happy days with his beautiful 

1 Muslims reckon four archangels : (1) Jabra'il (i. e. Gabriel), who is God's 
messenger ; (2) Mika'il (Michael), who is the protector of the Jews ; (3) Israfil, 
who will sound the last trumpet ; and (4) 'Azra'il, the angel of death. 



420 Analogues of the Squires Tale. 

bride, till, unluckily, an ignorant cook, being in want of firewood, 
chopped up his precious chair for fuel. 

The pretended angel, naturally fearing detection after this 
calamity, slipped out of the palace at midnight, and returned to his 
home, where he wept and bitterly lamented his lost grandeur. 
While thus plunged in the sea of grief and vain regretS; the genie of 
the chair appeared before him, touched by his misfortune, and 
presented him with a cap and a ring, saying : " When thou put test 
this cap on thy head thou shalt be invisible to all eyes \ and as for 
this ring, should any trouble befall thee, press it and I will come to 
thee instantly, and do thy bidding.'' And he returned to the palace 
without being discovered, as he wore the cap of invisibility ; and, 
buoyed up by the genie's promise of aid, he continued for some time 
happy in the society of his royal spouse. 

Meanwhile the vazirs, having ascertained the real condition and 
rank of the son-in-law of the sultan, disclosed the whole affair to 
him, suggesting that, as a proof that the self-styled 'Azrd'il was no 
impostor, he should be required to bring some of the fruits of 
Paradise. The sultan then went to his daughter privily, and bade 
her desire her husband to bring fruits from the spirit-world, which 
she did very willingly ; and her husband, going into another apart- 
ment, summoned the genie by means of his ring, who speedily 
brought him the required fruits. 

Some time after this occurrence the sultan fell in love with, and 
purchased a beautiful slave-girl, offered for sale in the market-place. 
But scarce had she been placed in the royal harem when a prince of 
the red genii, charmed by her sweet voice, carried her off to grace the 
nuptials of his son. One of the wedding guests, a hideous 'ifrit, 
became enamoured of her, and in the midst of the festivities, seized 
her in his arms and conveyed her into his cave, which was in the 
seventh depth of the earth. The aid of the " angel 'Azra'il " was 
invoked by the sultan, through his daughter, and the obedient genie 
of the chair, cap, and ring slew the 'ifrit after a desperate conflict, 
and restored the fair slave to her royal lover. But her charms soon 
proved so attractive to the sultan that, shutting himself up with her, 
he neglected the affairs of the state, in consequence of which a 



Persian Tale of the Flying Chest. 421 

neighbouring prince invaded the country, and, meeting with no 
opposition, actually encamped under the walls of the capital. In 
this strait the sultan again had recourse to his son-in-law, who, clad 
in armour, with the cap of invisibility over his helmet, and attended 
by the genie, who was also invisible, entered the invader's camp at 
midnight and utterly routed his troops. The prince himself was 
taken prisoner by the sultan's son-in-law, and, with all his treasure 
and the army equipage, led into the city, after the pretended angel 
had removed his cap of invisibility. Then the sultan caused the 
prince to be confined in one of the palace-towers, and ordered public 
rejoicings to be held throughout his dominions ; after which he 
resolved to spend the rest of his life in company with the beautiful 
slave-girl, and resigned his kingdom to his son-in-law, who lived in 
the utmost felicity with the princess until death, the destroyer of all, 
separated them. 

We have somewhat similar incidents to those of the Arabian tale 
of the Mying Chair in the ** Histoire de Malik et de la Princesse 
Schirine," in Les Mille et un Jours : Gontes Per sans , translated by 
Petis de la Croix, Paris, 1710-12, 5 vols., of which the following is 
an abstract : 

f mlait ®ale ^i tlje Ughtg %st. 

In days of yore there dwelt at Surat a certain merchant, who at. 
his death left all his wealth to his only son, named Malik. This 
youth in a very short time spent nearly all his patrimony in riotous 
living. It happened one day that a man from Sarandib (Ceylon) 
came to dine with Malik, and talked much to him of the pleasures 
and advantages of travelling to foreign countries. Malik confessed 
that he did not now possess sufficient means to allow him the 
indulgence of visiting strange places, and remarked that there were 
the dangers of shipwreck on the sea and of robbery on the land to 
be set against the advantages of travel. " I will undertake," re- 
joined his guest, " to provide you with the means of travelling free 
from all such risks." On tbe following day the stranger desired 
Malik to order a joiner to make for him a wooden chest, six feet long 



4i22 Aoialogiics of the Squire's Tale, 

and four feet broad. When the chest was brought the stranger fixed 
into it certain screws and springs, and on the third day, having 
caused Malik to send his slaves out of the way, he entered the chest, 
which instantly rose high in the, air, then proceeded some distance 
very rapidly, and returned and descended on the spot where Malik 
stood gazing in astonishment, after which he took Malik with him 
into the chest, and made a short excursion through the air. The 
stranger presented the wonderful contrivance to Malik, who gave him 
a purse of sequins, and was shown how to guide the machine by 
means of the screws and springs. 

In the course of a few days Malik's creditors became very 
clamorous, and as a last resource he entered his flying machine at 
night and escaped. After journeying through the air a day and a 
night, he descended into a wood, near a large city, where he care- 
fully concealed his machine. From a peasant Malik learned that it 
w^as the city of Ghazni, tbe capital of King Bahaman, whose daughter, 
the beautiful Shirin, being threatened by her horoscope that she 
should be betrayed by a strange man, he had caused a lofty palace 
to be erected, with gates of China steel, of which the sultan himself 
kept the keys, and they were moreover guarded by soldiers night 
and day. The sultan visited her once a week, and her companions 
were her old nurse and some female slaves. 

When it is dark Malik enters his flying machine and descends on 
the roof of the palace, whence he contrived to find his way into the 
apartment of Shirin, whom he discovers asleep on her couch. For a 
time he contemplates her surpassing beauty with rapture, then kneel- 
ing beside her, he kisses her fair hand, on which she awakes and 
cries out in alarm. The nurse conies into= the room and charges her 
with complicity.^ Malik declares that he is the prophet Muhammed, 
and that, pitying her having to pass her life ui a prison, albeit a 
gilded one, he has resolved that she shall be his wife. They credit 
his story, and Malik quits the princess before daybreak. Having 
procured a supply of food sufficient for eight days, and some fine 
clothes, he passes all the succeeding day in the wood, and at night 

1 The nurse might have known that the cries of the princess betokened 
her innocence — but iV import e ! 



Persian Tale of the Flying Chest. 428 

again visits the princess, who asks him : " How comes it that you 
look so youthful'? I always understood that the Prophet was a 
venerable old man/' Quoth he : " So I do sometimes appear to the 
faithful ; but I thought that you would prefer to see me as a young 
man.'' ^ 

Thus several days are passed very pleasantly — Malik taking care 
to leave each morning before dawn — when the sultan comes to visit 
his daughter, who is rather vexed to see him. She tells him at last, 
however, that he is father-in-law of Muhammed. " E"onsense/' ex- 
claims the sultan. ^^Alas! I now see how useless it is to strive 
against the decrees of fate. Your horoscope is fulfilled. A traitor 
has seduced you I " So saying, he rushes out of the room and 
searches everywhere, without finding any trace of the impostor. He 
summons all his ministers, and tells them of the heavy calamity that 
has befallen both himself and his daughter. The chief vazir says 
that the alleged marriage may have actually taken place, although 
the story has all the appearance of a mere invention. Great families, 
he adds, have before attributed their origin to similar events. Most 
of the other ministers professed to be of the same opinion ; but one 
said that he was surprised to find the slightest degree of credence 
placed in such a story ; — was it likely that the Prophet, amidst the 
hiiris of Paradise, would seek a bride on earth 1 He was of opinion 
that the sultan should institute a thorough search for the impostor. 

The sultan dismisses the ministers, saying that he will stay all 
night with the princess, and investigate this matter himself. Shirin 
tells him that her husband would never eat anything while with her 
— itself a proof that he is what he represents himself to be. As the 
usual hour for the impostor's visit draws near, the sultan seats him- 
self in his daughter's apartment, with a lighted taper and a naked 
sword in his hand, determined, if necessary, to wash out the stain 
on his honour with the villain's life-blood. Presently it happens 
to lighten, and a flash dazzles the sultan, who concludes that the 

1 Malik, if not the princess also, should have known that in Pai-adise the 
faithful are blessed with perennial and vlgoinms young manhood, since the 
Prophet has not only promised that each of the faithful is in those happy 
regions to have seventy of the hurls, or black-eyed beauties, but that he shall 
be endowed with the strength of seventy men. 



424 Analogties of the Sqttire's Tale. 

lightning indicates the descent of the Prophet. At this moment Malik 
enters, and the sultan, instead of being enraged, is struck with awe, 
and, dropping his scimitar, falls prostrate and kisses Malik's feet, 
exclaiming : ^^0 great Apostle ! what am I, to deserve tlie honour of 
being your father-in-law 1 " Full of gratitude, the sultan then dis- 
creetly withdraws from the apartment, leaving the princess with 
Malik, who passes the night witli her as usual, and departs before 
the first rays of the sun begin to illumine the horizon. 

The vazirs are again sent for and informed by the delighted 
sultan that the princess Shirin is really the spouse of the Prophet, 
but they do not credit such a very improbable story. But one of 
their number, returning home, falls from his horse and breaks his leg, 
and his colleagues look upon the mischance as a punishment for his 
impious incredulity. The sultan gives orders that all the city be 
decorated, and public rejoicings be held in celebration of his daugh- 
ter's marriage with Muhammed, the Apostle of God. When Malik 
returns at night, the sultan tells him of the accident to one of his 
ministers, and Malik declares that it will in future cost the life of 
any doubter. The sultan takes his vazirs before the princess next 
day, and begs her to intercede with the Apostle for their pardon, to 
which she generously consents. 

By this time Malik has eaten up all his provisions in the wood ; 
the '' Prophet " is actually reduced to as great straits for a meal as 
ever was beggar going about from house to house. So he says to the 
princess: *^My beloved, you, have omitted to give me a dower." 
^' True," she replies ; '' but I will speak of it to my father in the 
morning." " Xo, no ; there is no necessity for doing so. I do not 
care for wealth — it is of no use to me. Sufficient will it be if you 
give me some of your jewels." The princess would readily have 
given him all that she possessed, but Malik contented himself with 
two large diamonds, which he sold to a jeweller next day. 

Malik has enacted the part of the " Prophet" for about a month, 
when an ambassador from a neig]ibou.ring king arrives at the court 
of Sultan Bahaman to demand the princess Shirin in marriage. The 
sultan informs him that his daughter is already married, aud to no 
less a personage than the holy Apostle himself. The ambassador 



Persian Tale of the Flying Chest, 425 

thinks the sultan is mad, and returns with the strange answer to his 
royal master, who dooms it an insult, and at once musters his army 
and marches to attack Ghazni. Sultan Baharaan is in despair, for 
the invader is more powerful than he ; but Malik bids the princess 
tell her father that he will give him his aid in defeating the enemy. 
Having filled his flying chest with stones, he goes up into the air 
about the middle of the night, and descending close to the foreign 
king's tent unperceived by the sentries, peeps inside, and seeing him 
asleep strikes him on the forehead with a stone, wounding him 
severely ; after which he again ascends in his chest, and showers 
stones on the troops below, who all fly in dismay, leaving tents and 
equipage behind them. The invading king is, however, taken 
prisoner; and Malik, to signalize the victory, prepares some fire- 
works on the following day, and taking them with him in his chest 
at the darkest hour of the night he goes very high into the air, 
where he lights them, with very good eflect. In the morning he 
goes into the city, to hear what the people are saying about his 
pyrotechnic display. Some are swearing that they actually saw the 
*' Prophet" amidst showers of meteors, and so on. All this delights 
Malik very much, of course ; but in the meantime his precious chest 
is burning in the wood. A spark of a firework had somehow caught 
the chest and smouldered until the morning breeze fanned it into 
flames. When Malik discovered the extent of the calamity he rent 
his clothes and beat his face. But all in vain : he must noAV seek 
his fortune elsewhere ; and so he departed with a caravan for Cairo, 
where he became a weaver. ^ 

1 " most lame and impotent conclusion ! " — Hans Andersen, in his 
Danish collection of faiiy tales, has re-cooked this tale for the special benefit 
of youngsters ; his version is therefore valueless for purposes of comparison : 
A merchant's son squanders all his heritage — all but four shillings, a pair of 
slippers, and a dressing-gown. One of his friends sent him a trunk, and as he 
had nothing to pack into it, he went inside of it himself, and the moment he 
had closed the lid the trunk flew up the chimney and soared far above the 
clouds. He alighted in Turkey, and hid the trunk under leaves in a wood. 
Meeting a nurse and child, he asked who lived in yonder castle, and was told, 
the king's daughter, of whom it had been predicted that she should be unhappy 
through a lover. He reaches her chamber window in his trunk, is admitted 
by the princess, and tells her that he is a Ttirldsh god, and so on. Needless to 
say that this tale is not Danish, but probably derived from either the Arabian 
story of the Flying Chair, or the Persian story of the Flying Trunk. 



426 Analogues of the Sqtdres Tale, 

There is another Persian version which occurs in a collection by 
an anthor of whom nothing seems to be known, except that lie was 
70 years of age when he made it, and that his name w^as Muhammed 
Kdzim bin Mirak Husain MuzafFari Sajavandi, poetically surnamed 
Hubbi. This collection, whicb is described in Dr. Eieu's Catalogue 
of Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum, vol. ii. pp. 759, 
760, Or. 237, has no specific title, but is merely called Hikdydt- 
i 'Ajib it Gliarih, Wonderful and Strange Tales, and it may have 
served as the model of the Turkish story-book, Al~Faraj Md al- 
Shiddahj Joy after Distress, many of the tales in both being identical, 
and the story in question being ISTo. 13 of the Turkish MS. 375, in 
the Bibiioth^que ISTationale, Paris. This is an abstract of the 

l^r^mtt ©ale of \\t Mttstt m i\t attgel iakkl 

A WEAVER and a carpenter, in l^ishapiir, are both in love with the 
same girl. For her sake each makes a masterpiece of his craft ; the 
weaver, a seamless shirt, and the carpcmter, a magic coffer. Induced 
to try the coffer, the weaver enters it, and on turning a peg finds 
himself flying up to the sky.^ Having bethought to turn the peg 
the other way, he rapidly descends and alights in view of a castle in 
which the daughter of the king of Oman is jealously kept under 
seven locks. Coming down upon the roof at night, he finds the 
princess in bed, and declares that he is the angel Gabriel, to whom 
she has been given by God as his bride. He becomes her accepted 
lover, and visits her in the same way every night. At length the 
king is told of this wonderful occurrence, and accepts his celestial 
son-in-law. He is confirmed in this belief by farther evidence of his 
divine power : " Gabriel" crushes the head of an unbelieving courtier ; 
he puts to flight a king who claimed the hand of the princess, first 
by bombarding him and his army with stones, and then by shower- 
ing fire down on his camp. On the latter occasion, however, the 
magic coffer is accidentally burnt. " Gabriel " is reduced to the 
necessity of earning bread by his old trade. In this humble con- 
dition he is recognized by the princess, and he explains that he has 

1 The carpenter apparently wished by this means to get rid oi his rival. 



Persian Tale of the Weaver as .Gabriel 427 

incurred tlie displeasure of the Almighty and that the gates of 
heaven are for a time closed to him. At this juncture a new enemy 
appears. The unwilling " Gahriel " is clad in armour and put upon 
a horse. The fiery steed rushes with him on headlong career into 
the enemy's camp, knocks down a tree, which crushes the hostile 
king, and finally falls into a pit, where "Gabriel" is afterwards 
found half-dead. In the end he confesses his deceit to the king, 
who, grateful for past services, condones the offence and keeps the 
secret for himself. ^ 

"We shall probably find the prototype of the different versions in 
a tale in the Pancliatantra, Book I., Fab. 5, Benfey's German trans- 
lation, which is now to be presented in English for the first time. 
The Panchatantra (Five Chapters) is a Sanskrit version of the cele- 
brated collection known in Europe generally as the Fables of Pilpay, 
or Bidpai. About the year 531, an old Indian book of fables and 
tales was translated into Pahlavi, the ancient language of Persia, by 
order of King E'lishirvan, surnamed the Just, and entitled Kalilag 
and Damnag, from the names of two jackals who play a leading part 
in the first section. From Pahlavi this work was translated into 
Syriac, about 570, and into Arabic, under the title of Kalila tea 
Dimna, by Ibn Almukaffa, about the year 754. From the Arabic, a 
Greek translation, entitled Ichnelates and Stej^hanites, was made by 
Simeon, the son of Seth, in 1080. Two Hebrew versions were made 
from the Arabic or the Syriac, both in the 13th century, one of which 
is anonymous, the other is by Rabbi Joel. In 1168 a Persian trans- 
lation, from the Arabic, was made by JSTasr-'ullah. DivGctorium Hu- 
mance vitce is the title of a Latin version by John of Capua ; and 
an Italian translation, by Doni, was rendered into English under the 

^ There is a story, common to most European countries — but I cannot 
locate it anywhere at present — in which a kicky impostor, who had got a great 
reputation for strength and courage, through a series of mere accidents, is 
compelled by the king (whose daughter he had married) to go and attack an 
invading army single-handed. He is tied down to the saddle of his horse, who 
rushes gallantly to the attack, and the '' hero," in sheer desperation, lays hold 
of a branch of a tree which comes off in his hands, and grasping it tightly he 
approaches the hostile troops, who fly in dismaj^ at seeing a man wielding such 
a formidable weapon ; and the repute of this favourite of fortune is ever after- 
wards beyond the sneers of envious courtiers. 



428 Analogues of the Squires Tale. 

title of Moral PhUosopliy of Doni. Another Sanskrit version of this 
famous work is the Hitojjadesa (Friendly Counsel), but neither it nor 
the Pancliatantm can be considered as representing tlie text which 
was done into the Pahlavi language, if we may judge by the Arabic 
version. The following tale is peculiar to the Panchatantra ; I have 
added some explanatory notes to the translation, which has been 
kindly furnished to me by Mr. Thomas Davidson, who is enriching 
the new edition of Chamhers's EncydopcmVa with able articles on 
folk-lore subjects : 

Piik frotfftpe: %\z ileato fe|0 ^ersoimt^^ 
t|c Mti)' W\%\\\\\. 

Iisr a certain place there dwelt two friends, a weaver and a 
carpenter. They were very ranch attached to each other from their 
childhood, having always lived in the same neighbourhood. Once 
there happened to be held in the temple of the gods a grand festival, 
in the course of which there was a procession. Actors, dancers, and 
singers were there in great numbers, and jjeople from different 
countries had assembled. I^ow as the fiiends were making their 
way through the crowd, they perceived on a young elephant the 
daughter of a king, who had come, attended by eunuchs and other 
servants of the harem to behold the images of the gods. The 
weaver, immediately on seeing her, was struck by the arrow of the 
god of Love,^ and fell to the ground as though he had taken poison 
or some evil demon possessed him. The carpenter, wdien he saw him 
in this plight, felt sympathy with his pains, and had hiui lifted up 
by strong men and carried to his own house. There, by the agency 
of divers soothing draughts Avhich the physician had prescribed, and 
by the aid of conjurors ^ also, he was after a long time and with 
difficulty brought back to consciousness. Then the carpenter inquired 
of him : " friend ! why didst thou swoon away without any cause % 

1 Kamadeva, the Hindu Cupid. His poetical name is Ananga, lit.^ incor- 
poreal. He is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with 
his mother and consort, Rati, in his gardens and temples ; sometimes riding 
on a parrot, or lory, and attended by dancing-girls or nymphs, the foremost of 
whom bears his standard, on which is a fish on a red ground. 

^ Professional exorcists of demons. 



HincM Prototype. 429 

Tell me, and speak the truth." The other replied: ''If thou wilt 
hear it from me, we must be alone, so that I may speak without 
concealing anything." When this was brought about, he said to 
him : " Dearest, if in truth thou lovest me as a friend, do me the 
kindness to carry wood for my funeral fire. Do as I desire ; for what 
is done for the sake of a little affection cannot be out of proportion 
to the abundance of thine." But the other when he heard this said, 
with tears in his eyes and with a broken voice : '' "Whatever may be 
the course of thy suffering, do thou declare it, so that help may be 
provided, if possible ; for do not they say : 

'The egg of Brahma in this world contains nought but it may 
be set to right by herbs, money, counsel, and prudence.' ^ 

If, then, it can be remedied by these four, I shall remedy it." The 
weaver replied: "Against these my sufferings neither those four 
remedies nor a tliousand others can avail. Therefore retai'd not my 
death." The carpenter said : " Dear friend, let me know neverthe- 
less, so that, if I cannot bring help, I may perish in the flames with 
thee. Separation I could not bear for a single moment. That is 
my firm resolve." The weaver said: "Friend of my youth, listen, 
then. Immediately when I had beheld the king's daughter on the 
elephant I was reduced to this condition by the endnent deity who 
bears a fish in his banner ;2 and now I cannot bear this torment. 
Even as it is said : 

' When shall I sleep, weary with this battle of love, my breast 
sunk between a pair of milk-wdiite bosoms, moist with saffron, and 
round like the globes of tlie love-ardent elephant, caged up in her 
arnis, and but for one moment blest with her embrace % ' 

And thus : 

' The red bimba-Hke lips,^ the chalice-like bosoms, swelling in the 
pride of youth, the deeply-sunk navel, the bent lotos-fiower of the 
yoni, the dainty narrowness of the waist — may well bring suffering 

^ The egg of Brahma, the first of the Hindu triad : the Qgg is the world, 
the Orphic or mundane egg which floated amidst the water before the creation, 
and from which Brahma, the first-born, according to some legends, emerged, 
but according to others, merely resolved itself into the upper and lower spheres 
— Wilson's Hindu Theatre, ii. 58. 

2 /. e. the god of Love — Kamadeva. 

2 Bimba, or vimba = the Ilnjonia grandiii. 



430 Analogues of the Squire s Tale. 

to the impassioned heart ; but that her fair cheeks should ever and 
ever consume me, that is not well.' " 

But the carpenter, when he had heard this tale of love, said 
smiling : " Friend of my youth, if that is the cause, our goal is easily 
reached : even this very day shalt thou be with her." The weaver 
said : " When nothing but the wind can enter the maiden's chamber, 
and guarded as it is moreover, how should a meeting be possible? 
Why wouldst thou deceive me with an untruthful taleT' The 
carpenter said: *' Friend, thou shalt see the power of my cunning." 
When he had said this, he forthwith constructed from the timber of 
the Vdyudsha-tree^ a Garuda moving on a pivot; also two pairs of 
arms, furnished with the shell, the discus, the club, and the lotus, to- 
gether with the diadem and breast-jewel. He then made the weaver 
bestride it, and having thus fitted him with all the attributes of 
VishnTi,^ he showed him the mode of working the pivot, and said : 
" Friend of my youth ! go at midnight in this shape of Yishnii to the 
maiden's chamber, who dwells alone at the end of the palace having 
seven storeys, win her love with feigned words, as in her inexperience 
she will believe thee to be Yasudeva,^ and so make her thy own." 

Then the weaver after hearing this went thither in such shape, 
and said to her : " Art thou asleep or awake % For thy sake have I 
come in my own person from the milky way of Love, leaving Lakshmi 
behind.^ Come, then, to my arms.'^ When she saw him riding on 
the bird Garuda, with four arms, with weapons, and the breast-jewel 
of Vishnii, she rose in astonishment from her couch, folded her hands 
reverently, and said : " mighty one ! I am an impure, worm-like 
mortal, and thou art the object of adulation, and the creator of the 

^ Benfey saj^s : " I do not know any tree which is called the Vayudsha. 
May it not be an enchanted tree, formed in a wonderful manner? (See the 
magical spells in the Vetalajjancltamnsati, in Lassen, Anthol., 36, 37.)" 

2 Vishnu is the second deity of the Hindu triad. He is worshipped b}'- 
sixty millions of the people of India, as the personification of the preserving 
power. Vishnu is represented as riding on the Garuda, a mythical bird of the 
vulture species, half-man, half-bird ; in one of his four hands he holds a lotus. 
in another a club or mace, in another a conch-shell, and in the fourth a dis- 
cus; — thus our hero was tboroughly equipped for the personation of this deity. 

^ Vasudeva is one of the many names of Vishnu. 

■^ Lakshmi, the sea-born goddess of beauty and prosperity, consort of 
Vishnu, obtained by him at the churning of the sea. 



Hindu Prototype. 431 

tliree worlds. How can such a thing be *? " The weaver said : 
" Blessed one ! what thou say est is true. But was not my spouse, 
of the name of EMh4, once born in the house of Nandal^ She has 
embodied hersdf in you. Therefore have I come." The other said : 
" If such be the case, prefer thy claim to my father, that he may give 
me up to thee without any demur." The weaver said : " Blessed 
one ! I do not allow myself to be seen by men, far less converse with 
them. Therefore deliver thyself up after the manner of the G4n- 
dharva.2 If not, I will pronounce a curse to reduce thy father and all 
his family to ashes." Having thus spoken, he alighted from the 
Garuda, took hold of her left hand, and led the frightened, abashed, 
and trembling maiden to the couch, and after caressing her all night 
according to the teachings of Yatsyayana,^ went home in the dawn 
without having been observed. 

Thus the weaver passed some time in constant intercourse with 
her. One day, however, the servants of the harem noticed that her 

1 Radha was the celebrated mistress of Krishna (an incarnation of Vishnu), 
and wife of A3'ana-Gosla, a cowherd of Gokal. Nanda, the cowkeeper, was 
foster-father of Krishna, who was brought up in his house. 

2 In Hindu fictions it is quite a common occurrence for a wandering prince 
who has been smitten b}^ the charms of some beauteous damsel he chances to 
meet to espouse her by the " Gandharva " form — that is to sa)% without the 
usual ceremonies. It was supposed to be the form of marriage — if a form it 
could be termed — which prevailed among the nymphs of Indra's paradise, 
Armaravati. In the Hindu drama of Sakuntald, the king marries the fair 
heroine by this form, explaining to her that 

" In Iiidra's heaven (so at least 'tis said) 

No nuptial rites prevail, nor is the bride 

Led to the altar by her future spouse ; 

But all in secret does the bridegroom plight 

His troth, and each unto the other vow 

Mutual allegiance. Such espousals too 

Are authorised on earth, and many daughters 

Of royal saints thus wedded to tlieir lords 

Have still received their father's benisou." 
Sir Monier Williams, from w